


Barbara 2.5

by curiouswarnings



Series: Decimal Increments [1]
Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Action/Adventure, Boundaries 101 With Barbara Maitland, Canon-Typical Behavior, Communication, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Monsters, Post-Canon, Survival, Swords, addressing canon events, brief appearances by the Deetzes, discussions of canon events, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-12-27 18:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21123065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouswarnings/pseuds/curiouswarnings
Summary: Barbara's husband has been kidnapped by a monster. She figures her best bet at getting him back is to get the only other monster she knows to help her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Initially my plan was to post this in three chapters (with added oneshots/follow ups later), but I think the pacing might work better if it's split up into shorter chapters, so it might end up at around 5-6.
> 
> Beetlejuice and Barbara are an underrated duo tbh, and I wanted them to have to team up. I figured rescuing Adam was a good enough reason for that to happen. My apologies to Adam, who doesn't feature very heavily in this because a monster wants to eat him.
> 
> I don't have any plans for this to be goldenrat/beetlelands but I'll see where it takes me. Mostly I just wanted to put the characters in situations where they have to grudgingly look out for each other and bond over their continued survival because that's the kind of shit that I live for.
> 
> My alternate title for this was 'Barbara Maitland: Demon Slayer' which I still love, but I think it makes it sound too much like she's going to murder Beetlejuice, and I think he's had quite enough of that in his life.
> 
> Also, I'm still working on my other Beetlejuice fic! I need to rework some things for it so I'm taking the next few chapters slow, but I fully intend to finish it.

“Dinner was excellent Delia,” Charles said, taking her hand across the table.

“Well, you know, I try,” Delia replied, batting her eyelashes modestly and grinning when he kissed her hand.

"Know what would make it even better?"

Charles groaned. "Don't say it Lydia-"

"If we summoned Beetlejuice!" She said, beaming hopefully.

The adults at the table shushed her loudly, panic on their faces as if the aforementioned demon might spring from behind the couch at any second and start wreaking havoc at the dinner table.

"No, Lydia.” Charles said firmly. “We talked about this. Besides, what good would it do you to summon him tonight? We're going out tomorrow."

"He could come with us."

"Good God, don't even joke about that."

The Deetzes were taking a trip true next town over to view a new house that Charles was thinking of purchasing for resale. It would be the first time they'd been away since they moved in, and while Barbara enjoyed them all living together immensely, she couldn't pretend she wasn't looking forward to having the house to herself and Adam for the next couple of days.

Lydia pushed the remnants of her casserole around her plate and pouted. She'd been trying to convince them to let her summon Beetlejuice again for the past couple of weeks. No-one but her thought this was a good idea.

"At least he'd make the car journey interesting," she muttered to herself.

"Lydia, I do not want that- _creature_\- anywhere you,” her father said firmly, downing the last mouthful of his wine.

“He's not so bad, really, when you get to know him,” Lydia hedged, still harassing the last surviving vegetables from her dinner.

“Lydia he blackmailed you into marrying him- that's- not something a well adjusted person does,” Adam piped up from his seat opposite Delia.

He and Barbara usually joined them for dinner, even though they couldn't eat anymore. It had only been _really_ awkward the first three times they'd done it.

“OK, but before that we were having fun,” she persisted, finally giving up on the last bit of casserole and setting down her fork. She propped her head up in her hands and scowled at the table cloth. No one had the heart to tell her to keep her elbows off the table.

"I know you guys were- kind of friends Lydia, but I think this is for the best," Barbara said, trying her best to smooth things over.

"Yeah, he's kinda- well he's a little much, and I don't think he's very good company for a kid your age," Adam went on, slipping his hand into Barbara's. "Or anyone for that matter," he added after a moments thought.

“Well,” Delia spoke up, thoughtfully tapping her chin. “As long as he didn't destroy anything, or bring any bad auras into the house, I wouldn't mind.”

“Delia!” Charles yelped, looking betrayed.

“Well, I believe in second chances,” she said with a shrug. “And he was right, we didn't hang out much.”

Charles sighed and rubbed a defeated hand over his forehead. “Look, it's late, Lydia, you need some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, change the subject why don't you,” she grumbled, but got up to get ready for bed all the same.

“You all need some sleep” Barbara said, standing and beginning to pick up the plates. “Adam and I will clear up-”

“Oh, Barbara I couldn't ask you to-” Charles started, rising to take the plates from her hands.

“Nonsense! We don't mind!”

“Not at all,” Adam agreed, collecting the knives and forks and straightening the napkins.

Once they'd managed to chase Charles out of the room, Barbara and Adam cleared the table in comfortable silence, stacking plates and clinking cutlery quietly as they worked. Adam ran the water into the sink (neither of them had figured out how to use Charles' fancy dishwasher) and Barbara put away the plates already in the drying rack with a wave of her hand. Adam laughed as they flew through the air and into the correct cupboards of their own accord.

“Hey, you're getting really good at that.”

“Thanks,” she preened, quite proud of how accustomed she'd become to using her ghostly powers.

She joined Adam by the sink, drying the dishes as he handed them to her. It was a routine they'd had when they were alive, too, and there was a quite comfort in repeating it now, after so long without it

“Can't believe it's already been 4 months,” he mused to himself, as if reading her thoughts.

She hummed in agreement, setting a bowl into the rack. “Feels like just yesterday we were hiding in the attic and fending of the striped menace.”

Adam grimaced at the mention of Beetlejuice, handing her a plate. “Yeah, I can't say I miss that guy.”

“Me either,” she said, taking the proffered plate. “Lydia does though,” she added thoughtfully, remembering her words at dinner.

“I don't get why thought, I mean,” he pulled a face, handing her the last plate and moving to get the empty casserole dish from beside him on the counter. “He was such a...”

“Asshole?” Barbara offered, making Adam giggle sheepishly.

“Well, I was going to say a bad person, but yeah, he was an asshole.” He shook water and bubbles off his hands and pulled the plug, letting the water drain out in a sudsy slurp. Barbara offered him the dish towel to dry his hands.

“He just made me so _uncomfortable_, I don't understand how Lydia could _miss_ him, let alone want to bring him back into our lives,” he went on, ringing the towel nervously between his now dry hands.

Barbara leaned back against the counter and watched as Adam continued to worry the damp cloth between his fingers.

“She was lonely I guess,” she said at last. “They did spend three days having a No Grown Ups Allowed party, I suppose that must have been fun for her, given everything she'd been through. She has four grown ups in her house 24-7 now, I think she misses that.”

“But after what he did? To her?” He shoots her a surreptitious look from the corner of his eye. “To _you_?”

Barbara shifted uncomfortably. The exorcism- hadn't been fun. In fact it had been the worst experience of Barbara's life. Even worse than dying, which at least had been fast enough for her not to remember it afterwards. The exorcism had felt like all her atoms were trying to run off in different directions but none of them knew which way they were going so they kept knocking into each other, getting more and more frenzied as the seconds ticked by. She tried not to think about it, most of the time. She rubbed a hand over her arm and repressed an imaginary shiver.

Adam noticed (he always did) and he took her hands between his own. They were still firm and calloused from the woodworking and restoration, if a little colder than before. Barbara offered him a small smile which he readily returned, winding her fingers between his and pressing her lips to their joined digits.

“It's in the past,” she said at last. “I don't think we're going to have to worry about seeing him again anytime soon.”

They bid the Deetzes goodbye at 6AM the next morning. Lydia hugged them both, promising to call later, and Charles, still a little awkward even after months of living together, waved them goodbye from the car. Delia said they could use her crystals, as long as they recharge them when they're done. The Maitlands waved the car off down the street, until it was out of sight, before retreating back inside and closing the door behind them.

The house was silent for a long moment. Then Barbara took Adam's hands, just as she had last night, and a hundred nights before that in the years they'd been together. “Alone at last,” Adam teased, tugging her into the living room. She went willingly, giggling all the way.

They spent the day like they had spent most days for the last 10 years. With each other. They watched trashy TV, Adam heckling the terrible job the so-called experts on the restoration shows were doing, Barbara laughing along with him.

They took turns trying identifying Delia's crystals without looking up what they were; they'd both had gemstone collecting phases when they were kids, and it was fun to see how many they could remember.

“Tiger's eye?” Adam hazarded, squinting at the striped stone in Barbara's hand.

“It's gotta be, right?” She did a quick check in the book she was using to confirm their guesses. “It looks pretty distinctive, I don't think it's anything else.”

“What about this one?” Adam asked, holding up another. “Obsidian?”

She peered at the little black stone he'd handed her, holding it up for inspection. “Probably,” she agreed, and was just about to reach for the book when the phone rang from the hall.

“Oh! That might be Lydia.” She jumped to her feet, slipping the stone absently into her pocket and heading for the phone.

It turned out to be someone trying to sell them something that was probably a scam, but they hung up when Barbara started using her powers to make ominous whispering noises into the receiver. She snickered mischievously to herself as she put the phone down and went back to join Adam.

After that they dragged out old jigsaw puzzles that hadn't seen the light of day in years, planning to give them one last spin before they donated them to the local thrift store. They were almost done with the second puzzle when Adam did a quick count of the pieces, and was distraught to discover that there were some missing. They had a box somewhere for puzzle pieces that escaped the confines of their cardboard prisons and made a break for freedom but hadn't made it as far as between the floorboards. Too bad neither of them can remember where they'd put it. They headed up to the attic to look (Barbara knew it would bother Adam all night otherwise),and began sifting through all of their belongings.

“Anything?” Adam called from his side of the attic.

“Nope,” she answered with a shake of her head. She opened yet another cardboard box and rummaged around in its contents for a moment. She unearthed a box of old rubber stamps from her lino print days, a pair of shoes that she hadn't worn in 12 years, and a hideously decorated picture frame that a relative had brought back from vacation for her. She blew hair hair out of her face with a sigh, and was just about to set the box aside for another of it's identical brethren, when she noticed something else hiding at the bottom. She scooted the frame out of the way and pulled out the object.

“Oh, wow, look what I found!” She laughed, waving her find in in the air for Adam to see.

“Hm?” Adam asked as he turned. His face lit up when he saw what she was holding. “Is that- gosh I haven't seen that in years!”

“We gotta see if this thing still works,” Barbara said, extricating herself from the Kingdom of Cardboard Boxes and hurrying towards her husband.

“I'm sure there's an old cassette player here somewhere,” Adam said, already submerged in another pile of debris.

“I thought you wanted to find the box of orphaned puzzle pieces?” Barbara teased at having successfully distracted Adam from his original task.

“Fuck the puzzle pieces!”

“Adam!” She mock gasped, hand over her heart. “Language!”

“Maitlands 2.0!” Came his muffled reply, accompanied by an arm pumping the air.

She laughed outright at that and joined him in his search. A few minutes later they had unearthed a battered old metal tape recorder that was probably older than either of them, which had once belonged to Barbara's parents. It weighed a ton, and the sound was tinny and awful, but it had accompanied Barbara through her entire time dating Adam so she'd never had the heart to throw it away. In fact it was probably what she'd used to make the mixtape on in the first place.

They popped the mixtape in (it didn't need rewinding, they had both been very particular about doing that after they had finished using a tape) and with a few static-y hiccups, it spluttered to life, only minimally distorted by the years of temperature changes it had been subject to in the attic.

_Sunny Afternoon _by The Kinks began playing, and Barbara laughed.

“I don't even remember what I put on here! I had no idea what music you liked so I just tried to squeeze as many genres in as possible,” she said with an impish grin.

Adam laughed, taking her hands and swinging them together in a shuffling uncoordinated dance.

“I didn't even care! No one had ever made me a mixtape before, and besides, I'd been crushing on you for like a month already; you could have given me a parking ticket and I'd have thanked you.”

She laughed, twirling under his arm as they danced badly together in the graveyard of their former lives.

They moved together through song after song, shifting with the jarring genre changes accordingly, the tape like a little time capsule of all the records that Barbara's mom had packed up in the garage in the mid 80s that had lived there until Barbara had taken them with her to college.

It went from The Kinks, to Nina Simone, to David Bowie, to Johnny Winter, to Cass Elliot, until it finally died down into Vera Lynn.

“_You'll never know just how much I miss you, you'll never know just how much I care-”_

They slowed with the music, holding each other and swaying gently in the soft yellow glow of the attic lights. “Dunno what I was thinking putting this one on,” Barbara laughed, embarrassed about her choices even after so many years.

“Well, I think this one is my favourite,” Adam said, smiling proudly at her, cupping her face between his hands.

“Just like old times,” Barbara said.

“Yeah,” he agreed, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss.

Things had changed. They were dead, and there were things they wouldn't get to do anymore, but that was OK. There were still plenty of things they could do, plenty of things that could stay the same.

Barbara closed her eyes, settling her head on Adam's shoulder. _This_ was the same. The lack of heartbeat was still pretty new though.

And there were new things, too. They could help Lydia with her homework, they could play terrible board games with the Deetzes on a Friday night, and they could slow dance to a terrible mixtape 15 years young fished from the debris they had left behind.

“_You went away and my heart went with you”_

Distantly, there was a creak on the roof.

“_I speak your name in my every prayer,”_

They thought nothing of it, barely even hearing it over the sound of the record player, still whirring dutifully on after all these years.

“_If there is some other way to prove that I love you-”_

There were still 30 seconds of the song left to go when the thing on the roof descended upon them.

It shot into the attic through the ceiling, phasing through the wood like it was nothing, a greasy black streak of a shape, it's luminous disk like eyes shining from what Barbara assumed was its face. “What the hell is that?!” Adam yelped, banging into the table and upsetting the cassette player. It dropped to the floor and the tape popped out, unspooling into a tangled mess of magnetic plastic and silencing Vera Lynn forever. It shrieked and it's mouth opened gaping wide, like a gulper eel, a pale light shining somewhere deep within it's gullet. It scuttled across the floor, circling them, it's too many legs scraping oddly against the wood.

They clutched at each other as the thing crept closer, staring at them unseeingly with it's pale eyes. It looked blurry round the edges, wispy and incomplete, without the solid form that even Barbara and Adam still had as incorporeal beings.

And then it lunged suddenly, snapping at Adam's leg, and despite it's apparent lack of form, it managed to get hold of him. It yanked his leg from under him, dragging him across the floor and away from Barbara. She ran after him without even thinking, uncaring of what the thing could possibly be, what it could do to her, all that mattered was reaching Adam, Adam-

"Adam-" she started, reaching for him, her knees hitting the floor as she stretched out towards him.

He reached back, twisting awkwardly to her, as the thing pulled him across the floor. "Barb-"

The rest of her name was lost in the great howling shriek the thing let out, and with a final whip of its barely-there-body, it scuttled round and took off through the ceiling- taking Adam with it.

“Adam!” She screamed after him, a useless anguished sound lost in the silence of the house.

She picked herself up, running to the window and peering out, but there was no sign of them, just the grassy sloping hills and little picturesque houses of their neighbours.

Adam was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a gemstone collecting phase as a kid, so Adam and Barbara can have one too.  
The tape recorder was real, my brother and I used to use it to record ourselves performing terrible audio dramas on when we were kids. It weighed an absolute ton, I think it was from the late 70s but I'm not sure.  
The music on the mixtape doesn't have any significance (except for the Vera Lynn song, You'll Never Know) I just wrote whatever pre 80s music that popped into my head, half of it is stuff I can remember my mam listening to when I was little.  
Barbara probably could have made Adam a CD or even a digital playlist at the time she made him the mixtape, but I thought an analogue recording method fit their combined love of old stuff better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I wasn't going to post this yet, but I have no restraint and this was supposed to be all one chapter anyway so, y'all can have it early. I'm sure you were all looking forward to Beetleboy's return as much as I was when I wrote this.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments ;-; I wasn't expecting such a big response to be honest, I'm glad you're all enjoying my writing!
> 
> (it's already looking like this fic will be a little longer than 5 chapters tbh, maybe 7 or 8? depends how much more I squeeze in to the framework I have)

“Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

Barbara scrambled for the Handbook, flicking through it with shaking hands. There was a section near the back for ghosts staying in the living world, but it was sparse. Apparently it was rare that people chose to stay after their deaths. They hadn't needed to even use it until now, and she was sure it had never mentioned anything like _this_. She found the page she was looking for, skimming it as fast as her buzzing brain would allow.

_THREATS & DANGERS OF THE MORTAL REALM FOR SPIRITUAL BEINGS_

_Sandworms: feed on spiritual energy, will consume a deceased person if the opportunity arises._

_Exorcisms: performed by the living, will scatter a deceased person's energy, difficult or impossible to reverse._

_Miscellaneous Demons and Entities: Rarely a problem, see Tobin's Spirit Guide to more information._

She threw the book across the attic in frustration and clutched her hair, trying desperately to think.

Adam was gone. That was bad. She was on her own. That was also bad. She could try and call the Deetzes; but what could they do? They were hours away as it was and they weren't any the wiser as to what had just happened than she was.

She ran after the Handbook, scooping it up from the crumpled heap it had landed in. Flicking it open again, she looked for the helpline she remembered seeing in the back. Then, grabbing the chalk that was still lying around after all those months, she strode over to the mirror and began to write. As per the books instructions she wrote out the number for the helpline, taking a step back to wait for the call to go through. The mirror began to glow in rhythmic pulses like a dial tone, and she clutched the book and the chalk tight as she waited.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered impatiently, as the glowing continued.

“_I'm sorry_,” a voice sounded from the mirror, “_the helpline is currently busy, please wait a few minutes and call again_-”

She shrieked furiously, the chalk cracking in two in her hand. Around the attic the odds and ends of their married life shuddered a little with the force of her anger. “How can a helpline be busy?! This is an emergency!”

She snatched up the book again- and noticed the little square of card sticking out the back. She pulled the business card out and looked at it blankly. Oh God, not again. “Fuck,” she swore. She was out of options.

“Beetlejuice,” she called out, getting up to pace the attic. She was _really_ out of options. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!”

Someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey Babs, how's it hanging?- whoa hey, if you wanted to handle the merchandise all you had to do was ask-”

She grabbed his lapel, and waved a shaking arm at the ceiling. "There was a thing and it-he's gone! He's-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there Barbie doll, there was a what? And where's that sexy son of bitch you're married to?" He asked, spinning his head round to look for Adam. “Also, why does it smell like an inter-dimensional being in here?” He added with a thoughtful sniff.

"This- black _thing_ just came outta nowhere and- took him!" She stammered, releasing his jacket and twisting her fingers together anxiously.

Beetlejuice cocked his head to the side. "Huh- big, smoky looking, shiny eyes? Mouth like a clown's pocket?"

"What? I mean, yeah I think-"

"Sounds like a scucca to me." He sniffed the air again. “Smells like one too, come to think of it- been a long time since I seen one of those.”

“Well, whatever it was it took Adam we need to get him back!”

He eyed her dubiously, eyes flicking up and down, sizing her up. "What's this about 'we'? This isn't my problem."

"What?” She yelped, moving in front of him again as he turned away from her. “You have to help him!"

"Uh, no I don't," he said, trying to move around her again.

"What do you mean 'no'? You have to help! You owe us that much!" She pointed a threatening finger at him, but the demon wasn't impressed.

"Owe you?!” He barked incredulously. “Uh, I'm sorry, who conspired to use my insecurities against me and murder me last time we met?" He asked mockingly, cocking an ear in her direction.

"Uh I'm sorry, who was it that tried to have me exorcised so he could manipulate _a grieving teenage girl_ into marrying him for his own selfish reasons?" She shouted back at him.

He winced and stuck a finger in his ear, which was now ringing. "Touché, Babs, touché."

"Please, if there's a way to get him back - tell me what it is- I'll do anything," she pleaded. "I don't have any other options here."

He looked at her, deliberating, worrying his bottom lip between his slightly too sharp teeth. Anxiety crawled up her throat, clouding her chest with worry as she waited for his answer.

“Alright fine,” he surrendered at last. “But you owe me a favour, and whatever it is, when I cash it in you are _not_ allowed to refuse.”

She sagged, whatever the ghost equivalent of adrenaline was fading from her system. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

He stretched, bones cracking ominously as he rolled his shoulders.

"Right, if we're doing this you're gonna need a weapon- no ghost powers where we're going."

He rummaged in his jacket, arm stretching more than an arm should into a pocket that shouldn't have room to accommodate it.

"How about this?" He asked, pulling out an object.

Barbara stared at the a whip in his hand. It was bright pink and embedded with enough rhinestones to bedazzle the jean jackets of a hundred 9 year old girls.

"I am _not_ touching that," she said firmly, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Beetlejuice shrugged. "Suit yourself. Personally I think you could make it work." He chucked the whip over his shoulder where it bounced behind the sofa, vanishing from sight, and hopefully from existence.

He plunged his arm back into the unfathomable depths of his pocket once again. This time he pulled out a comically large Tommy gun and offered it to her, looking pleased with himself. 

“I wouldn't know how to use that even if I wanted to,” she said, tightly. They were wasting time, Adam needed them!

“Sheesh, you're so picky.” The gun vanished with a snap of his fingers. “Once more unto the breach and all that jazz,” he said, hand in pocket again. He pulled again, arm jerking a couple of times, until finally the hilt of a sword appeared, poking out of his jacket. He yanked at it, but it wouldn't budge any further.

"Hey gimme a hand with this would you?" he asked, spinning on his heel to face her and angling the sword towards her.

Grudgingly she shuffled closer to him and grabbed the hilt with both hands. She gave it a few sharp tugs, and after a bit of effort the sword came free, sliding out smoothly. She held it gingerly upright, and it flashed sharply in the LED fairy light lit attic. It was pretty impressive, as swords went. Like something out of a fairytale, if Beetlejuice had even read one of those.

"I now pronounce thee Queen Babs ruler of- uh- the Land of Attic." He gave a sweeping bow. A dozen cockroaches dropped out of his pocket and scuttled away across the floor. He straightened with a little bounce, his hair swaying with the movement. She had no idea what he did to it to make it stand on end like that. Maybe it was a demon thing.

“OK, now we gotta make a move Babs, we got a portal to find.”

He made a grab for her hand and she scooted out of his reach, startled by the sudden movement, brandishing the sword at him. He looked less than impressed by this. “What do you think you're doing?” She demanded warily.

“We,” he said, putting a finger on the tip of the sword and pushing it out of range of his face. “Need to go outside.”

“But I can't-”

“Exactly, but _I_ can, so-” he held his hand out again. “You need to keep a hold of me, so you don't get sucked off all the way to Saturn.”

She ignored the phrasing of this and continued to eye him dubiously. He wiggled his fingers impatiently at her. “That sexy piece of ass you call a husband doesn't have all day,” he reminded her, wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

She took his hand and hoped she wouldn't live to regret it.

He walked through the wall of the house, floating them both gently down to street level (Barbara and Adam hadn't quite gotten the hang of flying yet; it took a lot of psychological somersaults to persuade your brain that you no longer obeyed the laws of physics).

“Now, if I were a portal to another dimension, where would I hide,” he said to himself, holding his free hand up and making a show of scanning the horizon. He walked along, sniffing the air like a particularly mangy bloodhound.

It was the first time Barbara had left the house in months. She wished she could appreciate it, but all her thoughts were occupied with finding Adam. After a few minutes, they came to a copse of trees on one of the hills. He led her by the hand, circling tree after tree, looking for something only he was privy to.

"Are you messing with me here?” She asked after about 10 minutes of tree sniffing. “You better not be messing with me." God she hoped this wasn't some weird fetish. She wouldn't put it past him.

He flapped an arm at her without turning around. "Shh! I gotta concentrate." He peered closely at the tree, leaning in to scrutinize the bark.

Then he licked it.

"Oh for-" Barbara said, trying to throw up her free hand but remembering it was now holding a sword, and that it probably wasn't the best idea.

"This looks about right," he said. He stepped back, settling his hands on his hips and looking up at the tree. "Hawthorn, about 200 years old, no other trees for at least 3 feet- I'd say we're good."

"Good for what?" She wondered aloud, frustrated at his lack of communication.

"Dimensional travel baby. Natural objects are the best for this kinda thing, good spiritual conductors. S'why you use chalk to draw a door.”

And with that he stepped into the tree, tugging Barbara with him.

Though she'd passed through solid objects before, standing inside one was a different thing all together. It wasn't very comfortable; almost like being underwater, and she kept forgetting that she didn't need to hold her breath. It also didn't help that she couldn't see a damn thing.

A hand grazed her back and she yelped, trying to pull away.

“Hey!” She barked, in warning, glaring even though they couldn't see each other.

“I gotta keep hold of you if we're doing this,” he explained. “Ghosts don't usually travel this way.”

She sighed, not trusting him as far as she could throw him, but relaxed a little nonetheless. This was for Adam, she reminded herself.

“OK, but hands above the waist.”

“Spoilsport.”

He settled his hands on her upper arms nonetheless, grip firm but not tight. There was a flash of green light, and both Barbara and her demonic guide vanished from the mortal plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snuck a lil Ghostbusters reference in there bc why not.  
'Scucca' is an old english word meaning 'devil' or 'fiend'. It's where the name of Black Shuck in folklore comes from.  
Hawthorn trees have a lot of folklore significance as well. The flowers were associated with death, and it was unlucky to cut them at certain times or bring them into the house. Mostly I picked it because they were also supposed to mark gateways to the 'other world' and have strong associations with fairies.  
(In case anyone doesn't know, 'clown's pocket' is a slang term for a particularly wide vagina. I'm so sorry I had to burden you with this knowledge. I needed something colourful and disgusting for Beetlejuice to say and it was the first thing that popped into my head. Barbara does not know what it means.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all ready for some Drama and Emotional Whiplash.
> 
> Also I don't think anything needs a warning in this (RE: their discussions about Beetlejuice's relentless flirting and general horniness, but if anyone thinks it needs any just let me know). 
> 
> Obviously his behaviour is played for laughs in the show, which is fine for the purposes of that portrayal of the story, but since I LOVE taking comedic things that can have non-comedic interpretations seriously in my fancontent, it's something I wanted to try and address during the course of this fic. (Also it gave me more drama to work with lmao)

When the flash of light had faded, they were still inside the tree. She blinked, and it took her a moment to register that she could see Beetlejuice in front of her now, very faintly. He moved aside and a pale, weak, streak of light leaked in through a crack in the bark, and she realised that they were no longer in the same tree they'd started out in. Beetlejuice stuck his head out and looked around. Then he stepped out. Cautiously, she followed, still holding the sword.

“Where are we?” She asked, looking around at the unfamiliar landscape.

“Well, we're not in Connecticut anymore, I'll tell you that much,” he quipped, sniffing the air. “Don't think its really got a name though.”

The view was, to put it mildly, immensely depressing. The sky was barely visible through the haze of fog that blanketed their surroundings, but in the distance she could see dark craggy shapes that might have been mountains. There was knotted, leafless trees growing thick and black around them, their roots covering almost every inch of the ground. What little ground was left uncovered was muddy and dark, and though the air was cold it felt humid and damp on her skin. She looked back at the tree they had travelled through, finding it much the same as those around them, only with the addition of the hollow cavity they had arrived in.

“Better keep that sword handy Babs, you never know what's gonna come skulking outta the fog,” Beetlejuice said, striding forward.

“I'm a ghost though, how can anything here hurt me?” She asked nervously, following close behind him. She clutched the sword tighter just in case.

“While we're in this dimension you're corporeal again. Not alive, per say, but solid enough that if anything fancies taking a bite out of you, you'll come away with a hell of a hickey to remember it by.” He sniffed the air again. “Don't think it's gone too far, though it's a little harder to tell now that we're on it's home turf.”

He hopped down the pile of roots that twisted up to the base of the tree, and Barbara scrambled after him, watching where she put her feet.

“So what is this thing- this scucca?” She asked, stepping gingerly over a particularly large patch of mud. Her boots were already turning black with the stuff, like a thick layer of grease creeping up her shoes.

“Oh, just your regular run-of-the-mill inter-dimensional being,” he said airily, as if things like that were normal. “You don't see much of them these days, but a few thousand years ago? They were all over the joint.”

“What changed?”

“You did. I mean, not you specifically, obviously, I mean you're only what- like 90 years old?”

“I'm 34 Beetlejuice,” she said blandly, unable to tell if he was joking.

“No way, you don't look a day over 75.” She gave it up for a lost cause. “Anyway once upon a time there were tons of ghosts roaming about in the living world, but now-” He shrugged. “Lotta people just don't want to stick around, even when they have the option, so scucca don't usually go out of their way to travel to other dimensions unless they it's worth their while.”

“What do they want?”

They picked their way over a particularly tangled patch of ground, Barbara sticking her sword into the wood at intervals to lever herself over. Beetlejuice didn't seem to be having any trouble; as frenetic and uncoordinated as he appeared to be, he was quick on his feet and had surprisingly good balance. He slid down a particularly muddy root, flailing so much Barbara was sure he would fall- but he hopped off when he reached the end with a little bounce, waiting for her at the bottom.

“Oh, they're just greedy,” he said to her over his shoulder. “Even worse than sandworms. Soon as they get a whiff of spiritual energy? Dinner time baby!”

Barbara stumbled, sword knocking a chink out of the tree beneath them and almost slipping from her hands.

“It's going to eat Adam?!” She gasped shrilly.

“I mean, not right away, probably. That kinda thing can take a while.”

“It's going to eat Adam- and you were just gonna leave me to it?!” She cried, appalled at the idea. She knew he was an immoral creep, but at the very least she'd thought he seemed to have _learned_ something, when they'd last met.

He scoffed, looking up at her from the bottom of the mountain of roots.

"Oh, calm down, I just said that in case you were fucking with me. Had to make sure you were serious about this."

"What?!” She demanded, even more incensed. She dropped down next to him, boots sinking wetly into the cold mud, rounding on him immediately. “You manipulative jerk!” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “Why wouldn't I be serious about this! We're talking about my husbands life here!”

“Hey, can't be too careful,” he shrugged casually, as if they were talking about the weather, leaning out of jabbing reach.

“Careful about what?!” She spluttered. “God, you are so-! Didn't you learn anything from last time?"

Something dark flickered across his face, then came back and set up camp there.

“Oh, yeah I learnt something alright,” he said, a quiet anger bubbling beneath the words. “I learnt not to trust anyone right off the bat because they might literally stab you in the back. Excuse me for being cautious.”

He turned back to keep walking, but stopped after barely taking a step.

“Actually, you know what- after you.” He bowed her in front of him mockingly, and grinned mirthlessly at her. “Wouldn't want a repeat performance,” he said nastily, nodding at the sword.

She felt her face grow red, a caustic mixture of anger and embarrassment swelling inside her. “You are unbelievable!” She fumed, storming on ahead, blade dragging across the ground.

They walked like that for a while. Barbara in front, sword at the ready, Beetlejuice behind her, occasionally correcting her direction, but nothing more. He'd say left or right, but his tone was waspish and sulky, and his childish behaviour only blackened Barbara's mood. It wasn't like she'd _enjoyed_ tricking him. She'd have much rather they just talked things through but that didn't seem to be something he was capable of.

About half a dozen little scuttling things, white as milk and about the size of rats but with too many tails, shot past suddenly on Barbara's left with a little tittering noise. She squeaked in shock and brandished the sword in their direction as they passed. Behind her, Beetlejuce snickered, and she scowled at him over her shoulder. He smiled innocently at her, and she huffed in annoyance, but lowered the sword and kept going. Laughing at her seemed to have broken him out of his sulk, because he hurried up to walk just a step behind her and began talking again.

“So, how've things been in the land of the living?” he said, ambling along with his hands in his pockets. “Did Adam miss me?” He teased, showing too many teeth when he smiled.

“No,” she said firmly, keeping her eyes on where she was going. “And neither did anyone else.”

There was a beat of silence, and she resisted the urge to turn around and look at him, staring resolutely into the fog ahead.

“Lydia ever talk about me?” He ventured, trying and failing to hide the hopeful note in his voice.

“No,” Barbara said after a long moment.

He fell silent again for a long time after that. She almost managed not to feel guilty about the lie. Almost.

After clearing the most densely packed areas of trees they reached a clearing in the roots, and now had no choice but to walk through the mud if they wanted to keep their course. Barbara cringed as her boots sunk into the grime with an unpleasant squelch. Beetlejuice made no indication that this bothered him, but then she hadn't really expected that he would. He paused again, peering into the gloom and sniffing. 

“This way,” he said after a moments deliberation, pointing to their right.

The mud was very nearly ankle deep at this point, and bits of it kept slipping into her boots. She tried her best to ignore it, focusing her thoughts on finding Adam Unfortunately she hadn't been wearing socks when she died, and the mud was absolutely freezing against her feet. _It's nothing,_ she told herself. A little bit of mud was a small price to pay for getting Adam back.

“Hey, what kinda reward do you think Adam'll give me for rescuing him?” Beetlejuice mused as they passed a swampy looking pond. There some sad reedy grass growing on it's banks along with some rough, grey moss growing thick on the even grey-er rocks. Everything here seemed to be grey, and bleak, and disappointing.

“You're already making _me_ owe you a favour,” she said rolling her eyes. “Isn't that enough? Besides, we're dead, it's not like we've got a lot to offer here.”

“Oh, I think you've both got plenty to offer, if you know what I mean,” he said, with a leer, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at her.

She grimaced, appalled at the idea. “God, you are _disgusting_! How can you even suggest something like that?”

Beetlejuice just laughed. “Oh, you guys love it really-”

“No, actually! We don't! Adam doesn't like you! I don't like you!” She exclaimed, irately, knuckles white where she gripped the sword.

He was just as intolerable as the last time they'd met, and she couldn't wait to get this whole over with she wouldn't have to see him again.

He frowned and had the audacity to actually look confused about her outburst. “Hey, c'mon you don't gotta get so worked up over nothing."

"Nothing?! It's not nothing! We're supposed to be rescuing Adam, not trying to- coerce sexual favours out of him!" She fumed, stamping a foot in the mud, an action she immediately regretted as it caused a considerable amount the stuff to slosh over her into her shoe. _Great!_ she thought, _Just great!_ She was already worried enough about the 'favour' she owed him, and been resolutely trying to avoid letting her thoughts go down _that_ route. It was a bridge she was going to cross when she got to it. Or, preferably, not at all, if she could find a place where the river was narrow enough to jump.

"Oh but _you're_ allowed to coerce sexual favours out of him?" He asked sardonically, crossing his arms.

"Yes! I mean- no- we're married!"

"So, you're allowed to because you're married?" he asked, cocking his head at her.

She gaped at him. He blinked back at her, brow scrunched in confusion. It dawned on her with no small amount of horror that his question was genuine, and this was _absolutely_ _not_ something she was qualified to deal with. Maybe Adam had been right, maybe he did need a therapist.

"What I mean," she said slowly, trying to reign in her anger and at least attempt to be patient with him. "Is that Adam and I are _together_\- we know each other- we- know what we're comfortable with."

"So you're not comfortable with me?" he asked thoughtfully, more himself than Barbara, as if this was a revelation somehow.

"No-one is comfortable with you!" She blurted out, unable to help herself. "You have no boundaries! None! You don't respect people!"

"Hey, I respect people," he insisted, though she could see the doubt clouding his eyes and flavouring his words.

She spluttered disbelievingly. "Nothing you've done around us has _ever_ been respectful."

"I was just trying to be friendly!” He persisted, throwing his hands up as if _she_ was the one being unreasonable.

“No," she said, pointing at him and feeling more like she was scolding a dog than having a conversation about social boundaries. "Being friendly is saying 'hi' and introducing yourself, not asking people to get naked seconds after meeting them!"

“I did both of those things first! You guys are just prudes, that's all-”

“How are you not getting that kissing us without asking- and _groping_ Adam, are not OK things to do?!”

“Oh yeah, well how come-”

Water exploded from the swamp, spraying over both of them, and stopping their argument in its tracks. A great, slimy- _something_ lunged out of the water towards them. 

“Oh fuck!” Beetlejuice scuttled out of it's way with a yelp, only to be smacked by it's tail with a wet slap and sent flying off somewhere to the left. So much for having a demon on her side.

It looked something like a catfish with extra whiskers, but instead of fins it had strange clawed hands like a mole, and little clusters of tiny eyes on either side of it's wide head. It swivelled in her direction and came barrelling through the mud towards her, spraying black sludge everywhere and letting out a croaking bellow.

She screamed, squeezing her eyes shut, holding her sword in front of her as it made for- and there was a squelching sound, and a sudden, unpleasant warmth as it's blue blood sprayed all over her. It quivered for a moment, it's beady little eyes bulging from it's flat head, before falling down with a thump, sending more water spraying over the banks of the swamp. It slid sadly back into the swamp, now an easy meal for whatever else lived in there.

Beetlejuice, who had picked himself out of the mud, and was now standing a few feet away, cheered. "Way to go Babs!"

He ran towards her, suit covered in even more dirt than usual now, hands raised flat in front of him. At this point she'd spent enough time around him to see what he was getting at, and she slapped his hands mechanically, too shocked to really do much else. She winced when she realised they were coated in whatever passed for blood in the thing she'd just killed. She'd left it all over Beetlejuice's hands, but he didn't seem to notice. She stuck a tongue out in disgust, swiping her forearm across her face in an attempt to get rid of the grime. Beetlejuice rubbed his hands on his already filthy pants absently, looking around.

“We should probably get going, that amount of noise is bound to bring something even bigger running.” He noticed Barbara losing her battle against the grime and began raking in his pockets. "Oh- hang on a sec- here ya go." He waved a grubby handkerchief under Barbara's nose.

"Oh. Uh. Thanks," she said, blinking at him. Beetlejuice wasn't looking at her though, he was sniffing the air again, and he missed the surprise on her face as she took the handkerchief.

It wasn't clean by any stretch, but at least it was dry, and she only hesitated a second before using it to wipe the worst of the muck off her face. Beetlejuice had wandered on ahead, and she stumbled to keep up, their unfinished discussion lost in the excitement.

“That things blood is fucking with my nose though, I'm not sure if I can pick out the scucca's scent again just yet.”

"Then how will we know where Adam is?" She asked, worried about the potential set back. She squelched her way over the mud after him when he began walking again; in front of her this time, she noticed.

"Well, scucca usually like dark places, so if I can't pick up the scent again, those mountains are out best bet." 

He pointed at the craggy shapes rearing out of the gloom. Despite their apparent size, they still looked terribly far away. It already felt like it had been hours since they started walking, and she could feel exhaustion creeping up on her. Fatigue was something she hadn't really felt after she'd died, and it was strangely alien to her now to be experiencing it again.

Beetlejuice tripped over a root and Barbara made a grab for the tail of his jacket and just saved him from falling flat on his face. He leaned forward while she strained to hold him, the seams on his jacket creaked ominously. He crossed his arms casually as if Barbara's grip wasn't the only thing standing between him and a face full of mud.

"They like damp spooky caves, very cliche if you ask me, makes you wonder if the author is even trying."

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied, finally righting his footing and striding forward, yanking Barbara with him before she could drop her grip on his jacket.

She let go and stumbled after him, hefting her sword over her shoulder. It was still covered with the thing's blood, glinting a sickly blue in the anemic light. She had no idea if this place had a sun; the light didn't seem to have changed much since they began, skewing her sense of time even more. She wondered if there was even a nighttime in this place, or if it was simply stuck in a perpetual, grim twilight. Neither thought was particularly appealing.

"Adam's OK right?" She asked, matching his stride, still shaken from their encounter with the creature. The thing in the swamp hadn't been as bad as the thing in the attic, but it was a reminder all the same that there were things here that were dangerous. “I mean, we're going to find him soon? We've been walking forever.”

"I dunno,” the demon said with a shrug. “Could be it's eaten him already."

"What!?" She demanded, coming to a halt. "Don't say that!"

"What? What d'you want me to say?"

"I don't know- not that!"

"Hey, I'm just being honest,” he said, turning to her with his palms out in a surrendering gesture. He walked a few steps backwards like this, and somehow managed not to trip over anything. “I thought you'd appreciate that!"

“Well- normally I would, but you can't just _say_ things like that!” She exclaimed.

"What, you want me to lie to you instead?"

"Yes!"

"OK, Barbara! Adam is fine! He and the scucca are probably having tea and crumpets as we speak!" He adopted an awful upper class English accent for this last part, miming drinking a cup of tea with his pinky out.

"Liar!" Barbara cried, shoving his shoulder accusingly, and this time he did stumble.

"Look, Babs, not that I don't enjoy our banter, but if you want to save your boring, sexy husband from certain doom, we gotta get a move on."

He grabbed her hand when she moved to shove him again, and dragged her deeper into the gloom.

Barbara fell silent staring at her boots passing over what felt like mile after mile of identical ground. The landscape blurred into monotonous grey around them. Beetlejuice babbled away to himself about nothing, but she barely heard it. The oppressive miasma around them pressed close, and she imagined she could see pale shadows moving in the mist.

She missed Adam. She _always_ missed Adam, even if he was only gone a few hours. They'd barely been without each other for the past 15 years. They'd even managed to die together, which given their circumstances had been something of a relief. He always made her feel better. Even when he was freaking out just as badly as her he couldn't stand to see her upset. But this time he could be gone for real. It hit her suddenly that she might never see him again.

She sniffed. The sea of roots swam before her eyes. She sniffed again, and now she couldn't see anything at all. She tripped, and her arm pulled taut, hand still clasped in Beetlejuice's.

"Babs," he sighed, "you gotta keep up if you-"

She sniffed again, breath hitching in a half sob that escaped without her permission.

"Uh," Beetlejuice said.

She sobbed again, dropping his hand to cover her mouth.

Adam could be dead. _Dead_, dead this time.

"Hey, c'mon, we gotta go rescue your hubby," he ventured, gesturing weakly over his shoulder.

She kept sobbing, the damage done, the dam already broken. She dropped the sword with a clatter, pressing both hands to her mouth. She barely registered Beetlejuice hovering awkwardly next to her.

"This isn't exactly a great time to have a breakdown Babs, couldn't you wait a little-"

"Adam's dead," she wailed, not caring what monsters might come running should they hear her.

"Well, yeah, but so are you-"

"No!” She exclaimed, shaking her head, hair still caked in blood and swamp water whipping about her face. “I mean he's _really_ dead!"

"We don't know that for sure, c'mon," he hedged, shuffling his feet. He was rarely still, she had noticed, always some part of him seemed to be moving at all times.

"He's dead and this time he was all alone-" she let her knees hit the front roots beneath her sensibly heeled boots. She'd just had them re-heeled before she'd died. They'd never gotten to be worn down again.

"I'm all alone," she wailed even louder this time.

Vaguely she registered hands on her arms trying to tug her gently to her feet, but she was too lost in her grief to care. When she didn't budge Beetlejuice sank to his knees next to her, hands awkwardly on her upper arms.

"Babs, you really gotta keep it down," he said urgently. "There's a lotta things out here just as ugly as I am, but way less nice."

She cried harder, not caring if the whole dimension heard her.

"Jeez, not even a chuckle? I thought that one was pretty good myself," he said, nervous fingers twitching on her arms.

"What am I gonna do without him?" She asked whoever was listening, which in this case was just a needy demon with mommy issues. She sobbed again, rubbing at her face where her tears were making clear tracks in the grime, smearing more blood and dirt over her face.

"Hey c'mon, he's still alive- probably- and if he's not- you got all those breathers waiting for you back home right? They're probably gonna be ghosts soon anyway I mean they live what? 200 years? No sweat!" He tried an encouraging smile on for size, but found it didn't quite fit his face.

She squeezed her eyes shut, not able to bear the sight of anything at the moment that wasn't her husband. She couldn't imagine having to go back without him. Having to be in that house and see him in every corner of the house, in every stupid abandoned hobby and object, but have him be _gone_.

Something brushed her face and she finally blinked opening her eyes. Beetlejuice had acquired an extra arm from somewhere and was dabbing awkwardly at her face with a handkerchief. It was different from the last one, but just as grubby. This one was striped like his suit and had his initials monogrammed onto one corner in neon green thread. The sight was so absurd that she stopped crying for a moment to stare at it.

"For comedic effect," he said, still dabbing awkwardly at her face, looking away when she kept staring at him.

"And I mean, hey," he went on babbling nervously. "You got me, right? Here I mean," he added hastily, dropping his gaze again.

He wasn't drying her tears anymore, so much as smearing dirt around on her face, and she reached up gently to stop the motion of his hand. He jumped a little at her touch, his hand stuttering to an awkward stop. They sat avoiding eye contact for a moment while Barbara calmed down. The mist settled around them in a dull haze, the world fading away to leave just the two of them. And for the moment, that was OK.

She scrubbed a hand roughly over her eyes and took a breath she didn't really need.

"OK,” she said. “Let's go."

She stood, determination newly refreshed, and picked up her abandoned sword. Beetlejuice was blinking up at her, looking a bit shell shocked by the sudden change in mood. She offered him her hand, wiggling her fingers at him when he didn't immediately take it. She tugged him to his feet. "Lead the way," she said, sword over her shoulder.

He just nodded dumbly and led her on into the gloom.

She didn't let go of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm sure Beetlejuice is aware to some degree how unnerving/uncomfortable he makes people, and he plays into that to be annoying/have what he considers fun, I also think he just. Really has very little concept of how nuanced socialising and interacting with other people actually is. It's all fun and games when hes being big and loud and flashy, but when the emotional waters get muddy? He has no clue how that shit works. His emotions are very black and white (ha) in that respect.
> 
> The dimension they're in looks like that because I watched The Neverending Story one too many times as a child, so it looks like the Swamps of Sadness but with more trees.  
Actually I associate The Neverending Story quite strongly with Beetlejuice which is probably how it ended up in the fic. When I was about 4-5 we went on holiday to Norway and stayed with a friend of my mam's for two weeks. The only kid's films he had were Beetlejuice and The Neverending Story, so that was all I watched while we were there.
> 
> The catfish monster was inspired by one of the stop-motion creatures in House II, a delightfully silly film that I highly recommend. It has nothing to do with House I either so you don't even have to worry about watching that first.
> 
> It might come up at some point in this series, but my timeline for Adam and Barbara is that they met at college (either at a party they both hated,or through friends, etc) when they were around 19-20, then they dated for a few years, implementing their 10 year plan in their mid twenties when they decided to get married.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time for pacing reasons.  
I think this is gonna end up being 6 chapters after all, since the next chapter is likely going to be the home stretch of the Rescue Adam Mission, and then there'll be a little tie up chapter to finish off, but I won't update the count until I'm sure.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I'm brainstorming ideas for future installments, so you're all welcome to discuss ideas or headcanons with me if you'd like!

Barbara was none the wiser about the sun situation, as the fog never lifted an inch, but after a few more hours of walking it had definitely begun to grow dimmer. The fading light was causing the fog to appear even denser, more impenetrable, and soon Barbara could barely see more than a few feet in front of her.

“We're gonna have to stop for the night,” Beetlejuice said, coming to a halt next to another tangled cluster of trees. "Don't wanna be out in the open when it gets dark."

“But Adam-” Barbara began to protest. 

“He's probably fine. Scucca can't eat physical things, they gotta like- draw the energy out of you bit by bit. Usually takes a while." He began inspecting the cluster of trees, peering underneath the roots and round the trunks. "Hey, you think we'd both fit in here?"

Barbara hurried over to see what he was looking at, and found that there was a small cavern created by the gnarled roots of one of the trees. The opening wasn't very large, however when she squinted inside she could see that it cut back into the damp earth, creating what could probably pass as a shelter for the night.

"I guess," she said, not enamoured with the idea of crawling in there. "If we have to." She had no idea what kind of insects they had in this place and she wasn't eager to find out. 

"Hey, you wanna stay out here and see what kinda ghouls and goblins come out to party at night, be my guest."

And with that Beetlejuice squeezed himself through the gap and into the little cave, leaving her standing alone by the tree. Barbara shot a nervous look around at the dark fog behind her, before choosing the lesser of two evils, and following after him.

She scooted inside, barely able to see now that their meagre light source was largely obscured by earth and roots. She brushed against Beetlejuice in the dark and jumped in shock, not having realised he was so close, and banged her head on the low, earthy ceiling. She heard him snort in the dark and aimed an elbow for his ribs, pleased when he let out a sharp breath when she hit her target. The hollow was about 4 feet high, and perhaps about 6 or 7 feet round. It wasn't big, by any stretch, but for the night it would do, even if she would prefer not to be in such close quarters with the her companion. She set her sword down at the entrance to their shelter, and sat tiredly down in the dirt.

“How long have we been here?” She asked, trying to make him out in the dark.

“I dunno. Half a day, maybe? Back in the world of living I don't got a clue. Time's weird like that.”

She could hear his boots scraping against the ground as he fidgeted, but that was about it.

“Are you sure you're we're going the right way?” She was anxious about wasting any time; surely Adam needed every second he could get.

“What's the matter Babs? Don't trust me?” He asked. His tone was light, but underneath she could hear the tinge of shrewd suspicion he was harbouring.

“No- I just- I'm worried about Adam. This is the longest we've been apart in- well, since we started seriously dating, I guess.”

“Ugh, you guys are so cute it sickens me,” he said, and she got the impression he was pulling his face or wrinkling his nose in disgust. “We're getting closer, don't worry. I can smell both of them from here.”

“You can _smell_ Adam?” She asked, incredulously. That was. Weird.

“Well, sure,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “He's a ghost, he's got a totally different energy than the scucca. Hell, that thing isn't even human.”

_Neither are you_, Barbara thought, but didn't voice. She did wonder though, about his phrasing. For all that he set himself apart by reminding people he was a demon it was remarkably easy to forget sometimes that that was what he was. She wondered sometimes if he didn't forget as well.

“It's freezing,” she said instead, rubbing her bare arms. Sometimes she wished she'd had a jacket on when she'd died. Or maybe that nice sweater that Adam had bought her last birthday, with the flowers embroidered along the cuffs and collar. She rubbed her arms again uselessly, mourning the contents of her wardrobe. She doubted the cold could harm her, but it was uncomfortable all the same, and the thought of a long night ahead trying to rest through it sank exhaustion even deeper into her phantom bones.

She could hear Beetlejuice shuffling about somewhere to her left, but it was now too dark to make out more than a vague shadow sitting across from her. 

“Gotta be something flammable in here; aha!”

He snapped his fingers, a little flame now hovering above his palm. She blinked, and as her eyes adjusted to the light she could see he was holding a book. It was a battered, dog-eared copy of a very trashy looking pulp romance novel. Barbara wasn't sure what the woman on the cover was doing but she seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

“You're going to burn it?” Regardless of it's contents the thought of burning a book was tantamount to sacrilege in her and Adam's world.

“Yup,” he said with a gleeful grin. “We're Fahrenheit 451-ing this bitch!”

With far more enjoyment than Barbara thought the situation warranted, he moved the book over the flame in his hand. Barbara watched it shrivel sadly, her inner book lover quietly aghast, as the tawdry paperback went up in a cleansing fire. Beetlejuice dropped it to the ground in front of him and started to rummage in his pockets again, pulling out more books to add the fire.

“How may of those do you even have?” She asked in amazement, as he pulled out a fourth book. Sometimes he reminded her of a party magician, only not in the least bit appropriate for children.

“Dunno," he said, regarding the books curiously. "Let's find out.”

Soon there were nine books in the fire, with a further fourteen still in his pocket set aside for later.

“Seems like such a waste,” she sighed, warming her hands on the books' husks all the same. As bleak and awful as this dimension was, it was nice to be able to feel things again. Everything felt a little bit muted back home. A little bit far away. But here she could feel the waves of heat coming off the curling paper, their little embers glowing in the dark, smoke clouding up into the small space. She wished Adam were here to enjoy it with her. They'd gone camping once, years ago, and had always meant to go again sometime. They'd never gotten round to it. Just another thing on a long, long list.

“Not really,” Beetlejuice said, breaking her out of her morose thoughts. He leaned back against the wall of roots behind him. “It's keeping us warm, isn't it?”

“I guess,” she mused, unable to really argue with his, for once sound, logic.

She was gazing sleepily into the fire, still thinking about Adam, when Beetlejuice sat forward suddenly and blurted out “OK it's gonna eat me up inside if I don't ask; do you guys really think it's a big deal that I kissed you?”

She startled out of her reverie and looked at him over the fire. The flames lit his face oddly, making him look even stranger than usual, but she could see that the question was genuine and held no malice or ulterior motives.

“Well, I mean, we don't even know you really, and you didn't ask-”

“Is that important?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, furrowing her brow, disturbed that this was something he hadn't grasped.

“Huh,” he said, frowning at the fire and letting his mouth hang open in thought.

“I mean, how would you feel if someone kissed you without asking?” It was a simple concept, surely one even Beetlejuice could wrap his head around.

“I am literally always onboard with being kissed. You could kiss me right now and I would be like 'Yes! Free kisses!' ” 

“What if it was someone you didn't like very much?” She persisted, determined to make at least a little bit of headway here.

He shrugged. “I'll take what I can get, I'm not picky.”

OK, now that was just _sad_. Clearly she would have to try a different approach. She thought for a moment, running over everything she knew about him, which admittedly wasn't very much, trying to work out the best approach.

“Well, what if it was Lydia?” She asked at last, landing on the only person he'd seemed to have connected with in the time she'd known him.

That got a reaction out of him at least, and he jerked forward from his position against the wall, holding his hands up defensively “Hey, I said this already, that was just a green card thing-”

“Yeah, but _why_ wouldn't you let Lydia kiss you?” she pressed.

“'Cause she's like, a kid, I mean what is she, like 20? That's young for a human right?”

“She's fifteen,” Barbara said mildly.

“Fuck me, that's even worse,” he whispered to himself. “That's like, a foetus. I married a _foetus_-”

“My point is” she said loudly, interrupting before things could get even weirder. “Is that you'd feel uncomfortable if Lydia kissed you, right?”

“Yeah, cause I'm super old- my brain cells might be dead but most of them still work. Anyway, you and Adam aren't kids-”

“I know,” she interrupted before he could get sidetracked. “But, for the sake of argument, let's say that how _you_ would feel if Lydia kissed you is how _we_ feel when you- behave inappropriately towards us.”

He frowned in consternation, clearly giving it some serious thought. The seconds ticked by and she could practically see the steam coming out of his ears and the cogs turning in his head. Suddenly she had the absurd mental image that there was a little green hamster in there running on a wheel and bit back a giggle at the thought.

“I don't really get it,” he said at last, deflating back into his wall-ward slouch. “But hey, if it bothers you so much, I'll stop. No big deal.”

She blinked at him, a little floored by his response.

“OK?" he asked expectantly, staring at her over the fire when she didn't respond.

“OK,” she replied, with a soft nod. That was- something, at least. More than she'd expected really. Her aim had never really been to get him to stop (it wasn't her responsibility to make him behave himself after all) but she was quietly pleased all the same that he seemed capable of at least a little bit of self reflection.

“How long has it been for you? Since- you know, everything,” she asked him, after they had both stared into the fire in silence for just a little too long.

“I dunno. Hard to keep track. How long's it been for you?”

“About four months.”

He considered this for a moment. “A little less than that, I think," he replied. Then he flopped back unceremoniously into the dirt, lying awkwardly around the fire with a tired groan. “All this communication junk is a lot more complicated then I thought it would be. You wanna hear about the time I played tonsil hockey with Elvis instead?”

Now it was Barbara's turn to groan, but didn't protest. It was better than silence, after all.

As Beetlejuice launched himself into another bizarre, and most likely entirely fabricated story, she regarded the dirt ground beneath her with some disdain.

“Don't suppose you've got a pillow and some blankets tucked away in those pockets of yours?” she asked wryly.

“Sorry Babs,” he said with a shake of his head. “Not something I ever needed.”

“But you needed 23 steamy paperback romance novels?” She asked with a smirk.

He pursed his lips. “...Yes,” he said at last. “But hey, take this.” He sat up once more, shucking off his jacket and tossing it to her, narrowly avoiding it landing in the fire.

She fumbled with it as she caught it, double checking to make sure it hadn't actually caught alight. “Are you sure? Don't you need it?”

“I'm good,” he said with a shrug, settling back down into the dirt.

She slipped the jacket on, grateful to have something to cover her arms. It smelled awful and was still caked in blood and mud from their earlier encounter but at least it was keeping her a little bit warmer. She curled up on the ground as comfortably as she could, staring sleepily into the dying embers of the fire, which were now just a red gleam in the blackness. She listening with half an ear to the rest of Beetlejuice's story, which gradually petered out to be replaced with a different one. Every now and then he would fall quiet for a few minutes and she would start to drift off, before he'd start up again about something or other, waking her up.

"Do you always talk this much?" She asked, delicately. The fire was completely dead now, leaving only an impermeable blackness behind.

He fell silent for a beat.

"I mean, yeah, mostly."

“I think we both need some rest,” she went on, more pointedly this time.

"Yeah. Right," he said mechanically, voice hushed and sounding more full of gravel than usual.

Another beat of silence."

"I. Don't really like it when it's quiet.” he admitted into the darkness between them. “Lonely, you know? When it's just me."

“You're not alone,” she said quietly, staring unseeing into the dark.

“Guess not,” he said softly.

She closed her eyes again.

"So, what's Adam like in the sack?"

"Goodnight Beetlejuice," she said firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Beetlejuice has the same like...concept of bodily autonomy that humans have. He shows Lydia his literal brain, they tear the arms off his clone in That Beautiful Sound, he can grow extra limbs, and Lydia says he'd enjoy having his head chopped off. Clearly his body isn't bound by the same physical restraints that a humans is, so I think the concept of having a fleshy body that can actually be damaged is totally alien to him, and the first time he experienced anything like that would have been when Lydia stabbed him.
> 
> Honestly, I probably could/should have spent a little more time on this, but it's such a short segment that I wanted to get it posted and out of the way so I can focus on the getting the last couple of chapters finished.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a few rough spots in this chapter but honestly, I wanted to get it posted today. We're almost finished! I have sequel/follow up notes but I don't know when I'll be writing them, since I want to finish 'thyself for company' first and that is....very long fic.  
If I've made any glaring mistakes in this don't be afraid to point them out- I haven't edited this very well and I'm posting it while half asleep so I hope there's nothing too messy in here.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Barbara awoke with a warmth at her back. She peered over her shoulder to find that at some point during the night Beetlejuice has scooted over and to her, now had his back pressed firmly to her own. He'd rolled right through the ashy remnants of their fire, adding yet another layer of dirt to his clothes. He seemed to radiate an unusual amount of heat, considering he was dead. She chalked it up to another weird demon thing. Barbara watched him curiously for a moment; it was the most peaceful she'd ever seen him, though even in sleep he wasn't still, an would twitch every now and again, like a dog chasing rabbits.

She shrugged off his jacket and laid it over him, heading to the entrance to their hideaway to peek outside. It was just as gloomy as the previous day, but the fog seemed a little less dense. She could see the mountains more clearly, and was relieved to note that they were closer than she originally thought. She ached to see Adam again, to get him back in her arms and back in their home, with their weird makeshift little family that neither of them had ever wanted, but now loved fiercely all the same.

A moment later she heard a shuffle behind her, and then a voice by her ear said. “Think I can pick up the scent again now.”

“Better not waste anymore time then.” She picked up her sword, and squeezed carefully through the gap, Beetlejuice following after.

"_Fuck_, I'm tired," he muttered, as they stepped out side. He shrugged himself back into his jacket and ran a hand down his face, smearing ash across his already grubby features.

"Can demons get tired?" She asked, genuinely curious. He wasn't human, she kept reminding herself. Even if he did a convincing impression.

"Sometimes,” he said, giving the air a cursory sniff and starting off again. “Here, definitely."

"Why? What's so special about this place?"

"Same rules as apply to you, kinda. I'm just as fleshy as you here, but mainly it's because this dimension saps demonic energy. If I'm here too long I'm gonna fade right out of existence."

"What?!" Barbara yelped, almost tripping over her feet.

“What?” He blinked at her, looking over his shoulder.

“Why didn't you mention this sooner?” She demanded, marching over to walk alongside him.

“Why would I have? It's not like it makes any difference,” he said with a shrug, continuing on as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on her.

“Still I would have liked to know,” she huffed. “I don't want you to- get hurt or anything.”

“What happened to not liking me?” He teased, but she could hear the genuineness underlying his question.

“Not liking you and not wishing you harm are not mutually exclusive,” she said blandly, moving past him to take the lead. She slid down one of the roots like she'd seen Beetlejuice do yesterday, and miraculously not falling flat on her face in the attempt.

“Look at you Babs, you're turning out to be a regular adventurer; real Lara Croft type,” he crowed, sliding down after her.

“You mention her boobs _once_ and I will use this on you,” she said, brandishing the sword, but there was no real heat to it. Beetlejuice just cackled.

As they reached the top of another cluster of tangled roots, something spindly came loping out of the trees towards them

“Incoming,” Beetlejuice said, entirely unconcerned when it launched itself at him. It was followed by by another and another, strange insectoids about the size of a dog, their small heads containing a number of sharp teeth like a lamprey, with no other discernible features. Their limbs were serrated, covered in backwards facing barbs like little harpoons, and they chattered and hissed angrily as they set upon them. Beetlejuice managed to catch the one that had launched itself at him, and he snapped it clean in two with his bare hands like a particularly chitinous breadstick.

Barbara swung her sword as one of the creature's companion made a beeline for her, knocking it to the side before she brought her sword down sharply on it's back. Thankfully this one didn't bleed as much as the catfish thing in the swamp had, and it just lay twitching sadly in the mud once she'd dealt with it.

“Getting pretty handy with that thing, Babs,” Beetlejuice commented, as if they hadn't just been attacked by the Stick Insects From Hell. He seemed to have dealt with both the other creatures with minimal fuss, and he hopped lightly onto one of their carcasses on his way to join her. It crunched unpleasantly under his boot. “We oughta get you a suit of armour to go with it- you'd make a super hot knight.”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” she said with a roll of her eyes, shaking bits of insect off her sword.

“Oh, I meant it as one,” he assured her, cocking an eyebrow. He had a dreamy far off look in his eyes, and for a moment he stood staring into space lost in some fantasy that Barbara decided she did _not_ want to know the details of.

“Whatever is going on up there,” she said, prodding a finger gently at his forehead. “Stop it right now.”

“Make me,” he smirked.

She pushed him playfully, which probably wasn't the best move, she thought, as her heel slipped backwards in the mud. She toppled over, arms pinwheeling once, before falling a few feet into the mud below with an undignified squelch. She could hear him laughing from above her and she shook mud off her hands in disgust, trying to wipe it from the handle of her sword on the hem of her dress to no avail.

“You OK down there Babs?” He called, peering over the edge of the roots gleefully.

“I'm fine,” she replied irritably, picking herself up carefully so as not to slip again.

He was still giggling to himself, when he stretched an arm down the unnatural distance to pull her up. She took no small amount of pleasure in slapping her hand into his and getting mud all over him as well. Beetlejuice probably didn't even care, but it was the little things in life, after all. He hauled her up onto the hill of roots once more, still grinning to himself. She was about as covered in mud as he was at this point, though at least he'd had the opportunity to dry overnight. She looked down at herself, feeling the cold damp muck clinging to her unpleasantly. Her boots were even more caked with the stuff, and she almost slipped again when she tried to peer round to see what state the back of her dress was in. Beetlejuice reached out as her feet almost went out from under her again, a steadying hand on her arm, another on her side- only to snatch his hands back suddenly, leaving them hovering awkwardly in the air between them.

“Uh-” he said. “Sorry- was that-”

“It's OK,” Barbara said, surprised to find that it was.

“So how come that was OK and the other stuff wasn't?” He asked, frowning.

“You were helping me,” she said with a shrug, rubbing the mud from her sword properly, now that she had a better angle to work with.

“So, if I'm helpful the touching is OK?” He asked thoughtfully.

This wasn't a road she particularly wanted to go down again, especially when they were so close to finding Adam, but even Barbara 2.0 wasn't so rude as to ignore a genuine question when it was asked to her.

“I mean- I guess it can be- but- look, Beetlejuice, what do you consider, like, boundaries?” She asked bluntly, figuring a direct approach was the only way to really get to the bottom of this.

“Boundaries?" He asked, cocking his head again in that way that reminded her a little too much of a confused dog. "You mean like-the details of my curse?”

“What?” She shook her head. “No, I mean like- what kind of stuff could someone do to you that you wouldn't like? What's- where's the line?” She swished her sword through the air to demonstrate.

“Babs, the only lines I know are the ones made of Bolivian marching powder.”

“You really- you don't have anything you're uncomfortable with regarding-" she gestured up and down at him "This- your body?”

“Not really," he shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking back on the balls of his feet. "That kinda thing doesn't really apply when you're a demon.”  
“But- what about- your mom?” She asked haltingly, biting her lip. It wasn't a subject that she'd wanted to bring up; the whole thing had been awkward for everyone.

“Oh, she's fine,” he said, with a dismissive flap of his hand. “Little thing like that won't kill her permanently. She's gonna pissed when she finally pulls herself back together though. Not looking forward to that one.” He grimaced, looking far off for a moment, lost in less pleasant scenarios. He shook himself out of whatever reverie he had fallen into. “Gotta say, not a fan of being stabbed though- that shit _smarts._”

She fell silent after that, and Beetlejuice started up his usual rambling babble as they walked.

She couldn't really imagine not being- _aware_ of her physical body in the way he seemed to mean. Even dead she had almost the same boundaries as she had when she was alive. She didn't even really enjoy walking through walls, and much preferred to use the door. It wasn't a very comfortable sensation, to walk through solid objects when your brain has spent it's whole life teaching you _not_ to do that. She thought suddenly, about the wedding. The way he'd let them direct him about, fix his hair, change his clothes like it was nothing; looking totally bewildered but offering no resistance. She'd been so nervous at the time, concentrating on following through with Lydia's plan and getting him out of their lives, that she hadn't really given it much thought. The memories sat heavily inside her now, to think that it might have been- not trust, exactly, but- a lack of understanding. Of _experience_. Something he had no way of really preparing for because he didn't, or couldn't, comprehend it.

“What are you going to do once we get home?” she asked suddenly, interrupting his latest story, (which had involved Nutella, a pogo stick, and Charles Dickens) and stopping her own train of thought before it could gather enough speed to become a runaway train.

He hummed thoughtfully. “Well, after I receive my grateful thank you kiss from Adam-”

She rolled her eyes.

“I'm gonna head to Saturn to find Sandy, because she's gonna be mad at me for leaving without telling her, and then-”

“Wait- who's Sandy?” Barbara interrupted. He'd made such a big fuss of being alone, if she found out that he'd been lying this whole time she was gonna-

“Big Sandy, you know. You've met her.”

She blinked at him, realisation dawning. “Are you talking about the _sandworm_ you rode through our living room?!” Barbara asked, disbelievingly.

“Yup,” he chirped with a crooked smile.

“You kept it?!” She marvelled incredulously. “That thing was huge! And it ate your mother!”

“Well I didn't keep her, so much as she kept following me around afterwards, but yeah,” he said with a shrug. “You know, she's surprisingly good company, once you get to know her.”

“Doesn't she – you know, try and eat you?” She asked nervously, as if she was about to pop out of the ground at any moment. Barbara loved animals, but she wasn't stupid enough to want a dangerous predator as a pet.

Beetlejuice shrugged again. “She likes me.”

"Well, there's no accounting for taste," Barbara said with a sharp grin.

Beetlejuice laughed. "Wow, Babs, you're really leaning into that mean streak you uncovered huh?"

"Barbara 2.0," she cheered, pumping her fist in the air.

The mountain grew nearer and nearer, and their encounters with other creatures thankfully grew sparser as they approached the scucca's lair. They were almost at the very foot of the mountain, they hit a snag. In front of them, stretching the across their path as far as the eye could see, was a long, murky, river. It was largely still, more a long pond or lake than anything with a current, but there was no end to it that they could see from their position, and at this point they likely couldn't afford the detour.

“"No time to go around,” Beetlejuice said, placing his hands on his hips and surveying the water. "We're gonna have to cross it."

“I was afraid you'd say that,” Barbara sighed, sagging tiredly, using her sword to prop herself up with.

Beetlejuice pulled a long branch off one of the trees with a snap, and began poking at the water experimentally.

“Doesn't seem too deep,” he mused. He leaned over as far as he could to the other side and feeling for the bottom. The stick seemed to be reaching about four feet deep by Barbara's estimation, but she'd never been as good as judging measurements as Adam had. “We could probably walk across,” he said to her over his shoulder, still wiggling the branch about.

“Oh no,” Barbara groaned as she peered into the water. “Why couldn't I have died wearing pants?”

"Eh, it'll be fine, don't sweat it!" He said, chucking the stick into the river with a splash. "C'mon, you can ride on my shoulders."

She pulled a face. Not exactly a more appealing option; she wan't _that_ comfortable around him, even if he had proved better company than she'd originally thought. He rolled his eyes when he caught her hesitation, kneeling down by the river's edge.

“Come on, up ya get Babs, Sexy's waiting for you.”

Grudgingly, she climbed stiffly onto his shoulders, balancing there precariously. This would get them to Adam faster, she reminded herself as she tried not to flinch when he gripped her ankles. He stood too fast and she yelped as the momentum almost dislodged her, throwing out her sword arm for balance.

“You make _one_ rude comment,” she warned, keenly aware of where his head was.

“Hey, my lips are sealed Babs,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

Gingerly, he slipped one foot into the water. Then the other. Step by step they traversed the river, edging closer and closer to the opposite side. The water came up to about mid chest on Beetlejuice, and Barbara's boots were just barely avoiding skimming the surface. She held her sword at the ready, watching the water for any untoward looking movements. The grey-brown murk rippled smoothly as they crossed, but otherwise stayed undisturbed. They reached the other side without incident, and Barbara hopped gratefully off Beetlejuice's shoulders, heaving out a sigh.

"See, that wasn't so bad was it," Beetlejuice teased, before disappearing under the water with a splash. Barbara blinked.

“Beetlejuice?” Nothing. She peered into the water. “You better not be messing with me, I swear to God,” she said, voice edging on shrill. She gripped her sword just in case.

The water broke with a crash a few feet away, and she could make out Beetlejuice sinking his teeth into- something-maybe another catfish, there was so much movement and foam she could barely see, before they disappeared under the surface again. She leaned over the water's edge, aiming her sword at the frothing water, but with no visibility she couldn't intervene without risking stabbing Beetlejuice. Eventually he emerged from the water with a great splash, heaving himself up on the river bank.

"Shit," he said lay panting on the ground, suit sticking to him now that he was drenched through.

“Are you OK?” She asked, crouching by his head and peering down at him. He looked- paler than he usually did, which was an accomplishment, really, and the way his hair was currently plastered to his head brought up unpleasant memories of the wedding.

"Damn, who knew wrestling a monster could take it out of you.” He heaved himself upright and she dropped her sword to give him a hand. “I'm way too fucking tired to use my powers to dry these," he said, plucking at the sodden mess of his clothes with a tired grimace.

"C'mon," she said, patting his shoulder. "Take 'em off, we'll squeeze as much water out as we can," Barbara said, business like, knowing what was coming next. Sure enough he opened his mouth, lewd comment at the ready.

"No,” she said cutting him off and holding up a finger. He snapped his mouth shut. “Strip," she told him firmly. She paused. “Please tell me you're wearing underwear?”

“You're lucky it wasn't laundry day,” he grumbled, peeling himself out of his jacket.

“I refuse to believe you do laundry,” she said sardonically, taking the proffered item so he could help ring them out.

“I never said it was _my_ laundry.”

Barbara ignored him and focused on trying to squeeze rancid swamp water out of his jacket as Beetlejuice tried to remove his shirt- which kept sticking to him awkwardly as he pulled it over his head.

"You know you could just unbutton it and it would be so much- oh my God," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"What?" He spun around, shirt still half on, staring at her from the tunnel of his collar. "Is the monster back?"

"No- I-" she pointed at his chest. "Is-that?"

"Oh. Yeah"

There was a _hole_ through his chest. Not a very big one, but if she looked closely when he moved Barbara could see light and shadow behind him, a puncture wound that went clean through. They both knew how it got there; Lydia must have some arm on her to have managed to drive the sculpture through him like that.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, coming over to look, jacket hanging limp and forgotten in her hand.

"You should know." Guess not then. She and Adam hadn't felt any pain from their fall. Small mercies, and all that.

“I thought it would go away on its own eventually, but,” he shrugged, a helpless gesture that was foreign to see on him.

She lifted a hand unthinkingly, reaching towards him- and he jerked backwards, pulling his shirt back down. He seemed as surprised as she was at this development, and they both awkwardly avoided looking at each other for a long, painful moment.

“Huh,” he said at least, clearing his throat. “Think I get what you were yammering on about with the whole boundaries thing now.”

"I'm sorry we tricked you," she said without thinking. Somehow seeing the-physical damage had made it real in a way it hadn't seemed before.

"Are you kidding me?" He turned to her, one hand on the boot he was pulling off, the other on the nearest available tree. "That was super mean of you guys, I was so proud." He mimed wiping away a tear.

"But still- I'm sorry." And she was, in a way. Sorry that things hadn't worked out better. Sorry that she and Adam had died, sorry that Lydia had lost her mother, Charles a wife. There were a lot of 'sorrys' to go around, once you started to look for them.

"Hey, I'm sorry about almost having you exorcised," he shrugged, slipping off his pants. She was relieved to find he _was_ wearing underwear, even if they were the worlds rattiest looking pair of boxer shorts.

Her hands stilled on the jacket for a moment. "Yeah, about that; I don't forgive you."

"Seriously? I thought we were bonding here!" He said, gesturing between them, his sodden pants flopping sadly in his hands.

"Oh, we are,” she assured him lightly. “But that doesn't mean you're off the hook. It was cruel to Lydia, and to Adam, and it was _very_ uncomfortable for me."

"That's fair, I guess," he said thoughtfully. He rang a substantial amount of water out of his pants, and it splattered wetly into the mud beneath his feet. Barbara noted curiously that he didn't appear to be wearing socks. "Do I get an apology for when you screamed at me?" 

"When did I do that?” She asked, frowning as she flapped the last drops of water from his jacket.

"Straight after you guys died. I tried to shake your hand and you made with the Janet Leigh impression."

He squeezed the last drops of water out of his pants, flapping the excess off in the air as Barbara had just done.

"Oh. Yeah, guess I did do that," she said thoughtfully. "I apologize, it was very rude," she went on, primly, holding a hand out in a 'your turn' gesture. "Now you, for burning our handbook"

"Hey, if I hadn't you'd have gone to the netherworld, no Lydia, no Maitlands 2.0."

Barbara tapped her chin and hummed thoughtfully. "OK, no apology for that one," she allowed.

"Oh! Oh! I got one” he said, pointing at her excitedly. “Apology for being so lame at scaring people!"

"What?” She laughed incredulously. “That is such a stretch!"

Oh yeah?” he asked as he hopped awkwardly back into his pants.

“Yeah” she nodded firmly, handing him back his jacket. “My turn; apology for harassing Adam so much,”

He shook his head as he snapped his suspenders back into place and took the final piece of his ensemble from her. He didn't bother putting his tie back on, opting to stuff it into his pocket instead. “Nuh-uh, apologies are nontransferable; that's against the rules.”

“Oh there rules now, huh?” she asked, unable to stop the grin that spread across her face as she turned and took up her sword once again.

“Yup. Just made them up now,” he replied, smugly.

“What are these rules then?”

“Rule 1, apologies are non transferable-”

“Uh huh, we covered that one.”

“Rule 2...only I get to know the rules.”

“You are so full of shit!”

“Oh, Barbara! Language!”

She stuck her tongue out at him. Something about Beetlejuice brought out an urge to be particularly childish in her. She could almost see why Lydia liked him so much.

“But-uh- seriously Babs. I am sorry. About the exorcism thing." He wasn't looking at her, he was busying himself by stuffing his scruffy feet into his boots, jamming them in with a little more force than was necessary and spreading mud all over them.

“Thank you,” she said, at last, still a little stunned by his sincerity. “That's good to know.” She was only a little surprised to find that it was true.

Soon they had left the river behind, hitting the final stretch of trees before their destination. They were even thicker than the ones they had already passed through, forming a dense barrier around the based of the mountain in a wiry hedge.

Beetlejuice whistled as they looked up at them. “Regular Sleeping Beauty situation we got here, huh?” he said.

“You've read Sleeping Beauty?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I've been around a long time Barbie doll,” he reminded her, raising an eyebrow back in return.

She kept forgetting, sometimes, how old he was. Maybe she'd ask him for an exact number later, but for the moment she was content not to know. there was something unnerving about the thought that he might have lived, for want of a better word, enough lifetimes over for a hundred people, while she hadn't even managed to live one.

Their progress through the trees was painfully slow due to the tangles of branches, and roots. Barbara found herself chopping through them in frustration as they hindered their journey. They were so close. She hacked through another branch with vigour. So _close_.

They had gone about half way through the trees, when another one of those serrated stick insects came shooting out of the roots. It was even larger than the ones they had encountered earlier, and much, much quicker- and it made straight for Barbara's turned back.  
“Fuck, watch it Babs!” Beetlejuice yanked her out of the way but wasn't fast enough to hold it off himself, and by the time Barbara had recovered the thing had already sunk a jagged limb into Beetlejuice's side.

“Beetlejuice!” Another came shooting from the roots towards her, and she blocked it with the sword, trying to push it off to get a better angle to kill it. Beetlejuice was swearing somewhere to her left, the creature looming over him as it pinned him to the floor. There was a sickening crunch as the demon bit through one of it's limbs, and it screeched in pain.

With a final heave, Barbara threw off her arthropodic assailant, bringing the sword down hard on it's exoskeleton. She swung the sword at the one on Beetlejuice, severing it's limbs and feeling a sick sense of satisfaction when it twitched pathetically on the floor.

Beetlejuice pulled out the now detached limb in his gut out with an unpleasant squelch, gritting his teeth as the serrated edges caught on their way out.

"Shit," he swore dropping the limb disdainfully and pressing his hand to his side. Something black was oozing out from underneath his fingers.

"Is- do you usually bleed that colour?" Barbara stuttered out, staring in horror and squashing down her rising panic.

"Babs, I don't usually bleed at all." His tone was light, but it was forced, tensed like a guitar string about to snap, and he winced as he tried to get to his feet, hissing through his teeth. He looked even more drained than he had when he'd fought that thing in the swamp, and with a jolt she remembered what he'd told her that morning, about being a demon in this dimension.

"What? Are you gonna be OK?" she asked, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet.

“Don't sweat it Barbie doll, I've had way worse than this,” he replied, attempting a smile that only looked a little bit pained. Somehow, she wasn't sure if she believed him. "C'mon," he said, pointing forwards. "Onwards and upwards B-town."

They had no other option but to continue on, the trees growing thinner and thinner, giving way to grey stone beneath their feet. They didn't speak much after that, and Barbara lead the way for most of their journey. A few more insectoid things sprang on them from the roots, but Barbara took care of them with relative ease, taking no small amount of pleasure in cutting them ruthlessly down.

“You oughtta take that up professionally,” Beetlejuice joked, lightly, though he was struggling to keep pace with her now. 

“I have to admit, it's kinda fun.” She gave the sword a swish just because she could. “Wish I'd thought to try something like this when I was alive- the sword part, not the- everything else.”

She looked sadly at the blade for a moment. She could see her reflection in it. It was the first time she'd seen her own face in months. She looked _tired_.

“Feels like all I have left are missed opportunities,” she said to herself, thinking of all the junk that awaited her back home in the attic.

“Babs, just because you're dead, doesn't mean you gotta stop living,” he said, coming up beside her and nudging her shoulder.  
She blinked at him. “That was- surprisingly insightful, Beetlejuice.”

“Oh, I'm a regular fortune cookie baby,” he said. “Now c'mon, we're almost there.”

They began their upward climb of the mountain, Barbara once more leading the way as Beetlejuice pointed her in the right direction. Slowly, a cave began to emerge from the fog, a deeper shadow cut into the grey bleakness of the slate rocks. He was lagging behind her significantly now, and as they came within a few feet of the cave, she stopped and turned to him.

"How much longer do you have until- you know?" She asked, not wanting to voice what they were both probably thinking. She wasn't a demon; she had no idea what this place was doing to him, and on top of that he was injured, and they were about to walk into the lair of a soul-sucking monster. Things weren't really look up on his front.

"Dunno exactly," he said, leaning gratefully against a rock. "The hole in my gut makes it a little hard to tell."

"You could wait here,” she offered, not able to believe she was doing so.

“Huh?” He asked, mouth hanging open. "What, and leave you to get all the thank you kisses from our-" he paused "what's the male equivalent of a damsel in distress? Eh who care, fuck gender roles, Adam can be a damsel, he'd look cute in a dress-"

"Beetlejuice."

He looked at her, pale as their surroundings under the grime, which now ran in odd streaks down his face after his dip on the river.

"I'm serious," she said, brow creased. "You brought me this far, and I can't thank you enough for that. But you're in no shape to be fighting that thing."

He grinned crookedly. "Takes more'n that to kill me babes. Besides, you guys need me to get out of here. I can zap us straight back home as soon as we get to Adam, no trees required.”

"But you could wait here," she insisted. "Just until I get Adam. I can bring him to you and then we can all get the hell out of here."

He shook his head, straightening up with only a minor wince. “We gotta wait until it leaves the cave anyway," he said, settling down on the ground behind the rock- one that blocked him from view of the cave. "It's way stronger here than it is in the living world, we're gonna want to avoid a fight if we can help it. But if it does come to that, it's also solid here, so we can hurt it.”

“Won't it know we're here?" she asked, joining him in his hiding place. "You said it can detect energy, and stuff?”  
“If it has Adam in there it probably won't notice us. Not as sensitive to that kinda thing on it's home turf.”

He looked exhausted, she realised. It was hard to tell sometimes; he didn't always move in ways that were quite human, and she hadn't figured out how to read him entirely yet. She gripped his shoulder as she stood watching the cave entrance, and tried not to notice how cold he'd gotten, when just that morning he'd been a warm presence at her back.

They crouched behind the rock for what feltlike hours, and Barbara was _so_ close to just charging into the cave and getting her husband _now_\- when finally, a black shape skulked out of the cave. It slithered down the mountain like tar, and this time Barbara could see it more clearly than she had been able to in the attic. In it's home dimension the scucca wasn't a vague shape anymore, it was solid and heavy and _real_. She could see now the segmented carapace across it's back, the hooked legs that were never still enough for her to count how many their were. The pale flat eyes that looked sunken into it's head, that reminded her of the fish on display at the store, staring blankly out of her at the ice. She shuddered. She'd always _hated_ the fish counter. They watched as it slipped further and further down the rock, like a rippling trickle of oil, until it finally passed out of sight and into the trees they had just emerged from earlier that day.

“Right,” Beetlejuice said in her ear. “Showtime B-town.”

Together they scrambled up the last few rocks to the mouth of the cave, Barbara with her sword at the ready and Beetlejuice at her elbow still struggling to keep up with her. She rounded the mouth of the cave and- she could see Adam.

_She could see Adam._ He was lying still and small on the floor of the cave, but he was _there_, in front of her. The relief that coursed through her was almost enough to make her drop the sword and fall to her knees, but she pulled herself together and rushed over to him, boots clunking against the uneven floor of the cave, echoing in the enclosed space.

“Adam,” she gasped, heaving him into her lap, running nervous hands over his face. He didn't stir, face slack and pale. Not just pale, she realised, washed out, and if she looked hard enough she could see he was slightly translucent. "What's wrong with him?" She asked, still unable to stop her nervous touching, feeling his face, the fabric of his shirt, the short softness of his hair.

“He'll be fine,” Beeteljuice said, hand still pressed to his bad side. There was a dark stain there now, one that put the rest of the marks on his shirt to shame, and the sight brought worry lurching into Barbara's chest. “Just gotta get him home before-”

Behind them, the scucca shrieked.

“Oh _fuck_,” Barbara said.

Nothing was ever easy, was it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I am...endlessly fascinated by the way Beetlejuice behaves during Creepy Old Guy. He looks so bewildered but so ready to just go along with what's happening around him, and then by the end of the song he looks so genuinely happy that I can't help but find it a little heartbreaking what happens to him afterwards. Even though he kinda deserves it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this chapter! I had it about 80% written but I ended up being too busy to work on it for a while.  
Thank you so much for reading! I frequently go back and reread all the nice comments you guys have left me, I'm glad you've all enjoyed my writing. I probably could have tidied this up a bit more, but I didn't want to leave it any longer before posting it to be honest since I'm gonna be busy the next couple of weeks.
> 
> I can't say when the next installment(s) will be, but I have notes and half finished plot plans, so keep an eye out for updates!

Barbara scrambled for her sword, hindered by Adam's dead weight lying heavily in her lap. She'd only just managed to grab the hilt as the scucca descended on them, gaping maw spread wide-

-it's mouth hit the blade of her sword with a clang as she whipped it through the air in front of her to guard against it's onslaught. The scucca scrabbled and pushed, and Barbara had to bring a hand up to steady the blade, hissing when it cut into her palm. The scucca pushed harder, and she sank lower to the floor, lying back over Adam's unconcious form. She could see deep into the scucca's throat now, saw the pinprick of light inside it that glowed pale and sickly like it's eyes.

Beetlejuice launched himself at the scucca, and the pressure on the sword eased and finally lifted as it shrieked and wailed, whipping it's head back and forth trying to dislodge him. Barbara scrambled to her feet, standing firm in front of Adam, the sword ready but useless in her hand as Beetlejuice wrestled with the creature. She stood over Adam, sword out in front of her, but with the amount of moving the scucca was doing there wasn't much she could do. It hissed and bucked, unable to reach the demon from the angle he was at. Eventually it slammed it's back into the wall, finally succeeding in dislodging him- but not without Beetlejuice tearing a section of it's carapace off with him. Beetlejuice hit the wall with a grunt, but before he could recover the scucca whipped round and lashed it's legs along Beetlejuice's torso, drowning out the stain on his side with a fresh new torrent of black blood.

“Beetlejuice!” Barbara screamed. She finally managed to tear herself away from Adam, barely hesitating as she threw herself at the scucca's back.

It bucked and writhed as it once again found itself victim to unwanted passengers. Unfortunately the creature had learned from it's previous experience and it wasted no time in slamming Barbara against the wall in the same way it had done to Beetlejuice. But she held fast, palm stinging from where the sword sliced into her, the scucca's exoskeleton driving the cut deeper, tired and angry and wanting nothing more than to be back home, home, _home_, with her family.

She raised her sword, the blade a grubby, tarnished mess from mud and blood and rancid swamp water, no longer the shining beacon that it had been when she had been given it just two days ago- and sunk her arm down with all the driving force that Barbara 2.0 could manage.

She hit her mark squarely, and the sword slipped through the gap Beetlejuice had made in it's armour like a welding torch through butter.

It went rigid, shuddering all over. Then, suddenly, a flood of light spilled from with in it, so bright that Barbara had to shield her eyes, dropping from it's back to the hard stone of the cave floor with a grunt. Eventually, the light faded, and Barbara risked a peek.

The scucca was standing, unmoving in the middle of the cave. There was no longer any light in it's sunken eyes. She poked it cautiously with the tip of her sword. And then it- _deflated- _into a pile of limbs and carapace, and she yelped as the bits went scattering everywhere. Now, she was no expert, but she was pretty sure it was safe to assume the thing was dead. She gave it's head a kick to be sure. It's skull spun a little on the uneven ground, but did not rise from the dead to give her one last scare.

She dropped the sword with an echoing clang, running to check quickly on Adam, who hadn't so much as flickered. He didn't look any better- but he didn't look worse either, so she turned her attention to the where Beetlejuice was lying still by the wall of the cave.

“Beetlejuice?” She hovered her hands over his mangled torso uncertainly.

She shook him gently, her earlier relief short lived.

“Beetlejuice,” she said again, desperation creeping in where victory had once lived. “We need to go, please I don't know how to get us out of here!”

He didn't reply, other than to cough wetly, and groan, before falling silent entirely.

“I want to go home!” She said, chest tight when she heard her voice begin to crack.

Nothing. No. _No_, she did not come this for for things to fall apart now.

She swiped roughly at the tears gathering in her eyes, leaving Beetlejuice to rush back to her husband. She dragged Adam over to the wall of the cave- leaving him next to the demon. She pressed her hands over his torso, but she could barely see where the wounds even were now, his chest entirely black in the dull light.

“Beetlejuice, you need to wake up,” she said firmly, as if that would make any difference.

His blood was bubbling under her fingers, indistinguishable from the black mud that was already caked under her fingernails, dripping wetly over her fingers and down her forearms onto her stained dress.

“I want to go home Beetlejuice!” She said, pressing harder on the wounds, but Beetlejuice gave no indication he could even feel it.

Desperately, she gripped at Adam, dragging him even closer so he was lying half in her lap. She leaned back over, pressing at Beetlejuice's torso again, smearing blood over Adam's shirt as she moved. “Take me home,” she cried to the unconscious demon.

He didn't so much as twitch. She'd never seen him so still. The thought that he might be dead flashed across her mind like a blinding sheet of lightning, and panic set in entirely as she began to wonder if she was going to be stuck here forever. She grabbed Beeteljuice's lapel, shaking him roughly, tears rolling freely down her dirty face. He wasn't conscious to offer her a handkerchief this time. She shook him harder.

“C'mon!” She said, Adam a limp weight across her legs, her palm stinging, imaginary muscles aching with exertion. “I want to go home!”

Beetlejuice's only reply was to let his head loll limply to the side. She gripped his lapel so hard the fabric burned her hand, head bowed so far forward her head was almost resting on the tattered mess of his chest, eyes squeezed tight shut against the torrent of tears threatening to overflow from her.

"Home, home, home" she screamed desperately, Aam clutched in her lap, one hand gripping tight to Beetlejuice's stained jacket, her vision obscured by grief and the dimness of the cave-

-there was a green flash, and all three of them dropped suddenly into the Maitlands' living room.

Charles swore. Delia screamed. Lydia came running in from the other room to see what was happening, her boots skidding and clunking on the laminated floor as she took the corner too fast and almost toppled over in the hallway.

And Barbara sat blinking stupidly in the middle of her home with no idea how they'd gotten there.

"Beetlejuice?!" Lydia was shouting, running over to join them on the floor.

“Beetlejuice?!” Charles spluttered, looking red in the face and more than a little out of his depth.

Barbara could hear the Deetzes talking, knew they were asking questions, but her head was swimming, the lights of the living room seemed blinding after so long spent in grey gloom, and she had no idea who to turn her attention to first. Adam groaned, and the sound snapped her to her senses just a little bit. She ran an anxious hand over his face, but was relieved to see that he was regaining consciousness, and the state of semi-transparency she'd found him in already seemed to be receding.

"Beetlejuice!" Lydia was saying, shaking him to no avail as she knelt beside him, and she was almost too overwhelmed to feel guilty of leaving a teenager to deal with a dying demon. "Beetlejuice!" Lydia said again, desperately. _Almost_.

Adam was coming around now, sitting up and rubbing his head, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Delia come over to help him up, so Barbara turned her attention to the demon in a heap to her right. She elbowed Lydia gently to the side, ignoring the stricken look on her face, and Beetlejuice's blood on her hands.

"Beetlejuice! Hey!" She slapped his cheeks gently, and noticed there was blood bubbling up from his lips. Was that bad? He didn't need to breath, did it even matter?

Charles was still spluttering in confusion, looking between the three of them helplessly.

"Barbara?" Adam said blearily, finally conscious, and _God_, what a relief it was to hear his voice- "What's happening" he asked, before catching sight of Beetlejuice. "Is that-?"

"I don't know what to do-" she said, tears blurring her eyes once more, her calm slipping again now that Adam was back with her. "I don't know how to help him-"

"You can stop yelling for one thing-"

"Beetlejuice!"

He coughed wetly, groaning as he tried to sit, giving up before making it even half way, and slumping back onto the carpet with an ominous squelch. She put a hand on his face again, smearing his own blood on his squishy cheek, as she tried to determine how lucid he was.

"Are you OK?" She asked, peering into his eyes. "You're still bleeding, I don't know how to stop it- do I need to stop it?"

He coughed again, more black blood dribbling down his chin and spraying in the air in little droplets. She barely even flinched, having been sprayed with so many substances the last few days, she felt pretty much immune now.

"Fuck...just give it a minute and I should be fine. I'm gonna pass out now, OK? OK," he said without waiting for an answer. "Good to see you again, sexy" he added to Adam before making good on his promise and going limp on Delia's expensive Tibetan rug.

"I think," said Charles in the ringing silence after Beetlejuice's words "that we could all use an explanation. And a drink. Maybe not in that order."

Lydia ran off to fetch the first aid kit, and Barbara began to peel away his jacket, wincing when it stuck to his chest from the drying blood.

She couldn't stop looking worriedly over at Adam, who was sitting on the sofa looking dazed. Charles caught her looking and came to stand by her husband, giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder, a gesture that Barbara took to mean he was on standby, should anything else go wrong. She shot Charles a grateful smile and turned back to her task, peeling the jacket off his arms as Delia propped him up for her. His shirt was a lost cause, now a tattered mess of soggy black fabric, cut to ribbons down the front. Delia's rug was likewise unsalvageable, and would find itself sitting sadly in the trashcan outside later that evening.

His torso was littered with a mass of gashes, in addition to the puncture wound from earlier, however the bleeding seemed to be slowing on it's own, and by the time Lydia had returned with the first aid kit it had slowed to a sluggish trickle. Barbara cleaned him and bandaged them as best she could, regardless of if it would make any difference to him. He was a demon, after all. She had no idea how these things _worked_. Lydia insisting on helping, handing her bandages and gauze and whatever else she needed, and peering worriedly over at Beetlejuice all the while.

Beetlejuice refused to wake up throughout this whole procedure, but was soon lying slightly clean and a lot bandaged on the floor of their living room. They all looked at him for a long moment, during which Barbara sank onto the sofa next to Adam. She hugged Adam tightly, pressing her face into his shoulder, feeling relieved beyond measure when she felt his arms come up around her.

"We can't just leave him on the floor all night Dad," Lydia said, gesturing to the figure in front of them. 

Charles sighed heavily, but said nothing. He carried the unconscious demon upstairs with minimal fuss, depositing him in the guest bedroom with a small, private prayer that the sheets would make it through the ordeal alive. He then had two stiff drinks and announced it was time for a family meeting- in the kitchen, away from the bloodstains on the floor.

"You were gone for a whole week!" Lydia said as they all filed into the kitchen and sat around the table. "I couldn't even look in the handbook to help, we were so worried!"

Gradually, Barbara began to fill them all in. About being separated from Adam, about not knowing who to turn to- about having to turn to Beetlejuice. About going to another dimension, fighting monsters- Adam squeezed her hand tightly when she got to those parts, and she shifted incrementally closer on the sofa, as much for her benefit as for his. And finally about fighting the scucca and finding herself home. It was a much abbreviated version, and even that felt too long to tell, and by the end she was exhausted, head leaning tiredly against Adam's shoulder

Lydia listened to the story with wide eyes, gasping at the appropriate parts (she really made for a very good audience), but mostly she was upset she'd missed out on all the action.

She hugged Barbara tightly. "I wish I'd been with you," she said into her shoulder

"I'm glad you weren't there Lydia, that place was awful," Barbara said with a shudder, running a hand over Lydia's hair.

Lydia fell quiet after that, and Barbara felt sure she was more shaken than she was letting on.

"I'm gonna check on Beetlejuice," she announced at last, running up the stairs.

Charles choked on the drink he'd been about to take, swallowing badly and coughing. "Not unsupervised you're not," he said, hurrying after his daughter.

"I'll uh- give you two some time alone," Delia said, shuffling after her husband- but not before giving them both brief, but very fierce hugs, which Barbara gratefully returned. Funny how fighting monsters in another dimension could make you miss the little things. They watched her disappear out of the kitchen, hearing her hurried gait on the stairs.

“Well,” Adam said, drumming his fingers across the kitchen table. “You had quite the adventure, huh?”

She pressed her hands over his, stilling his fingers. She was relieved to find that he was solid now; seeing him pale and still on the floor of that cave had been one of the most frightening experiences of her life.

"Are you OK?" she asked, giving him a once over just to make sure there weren't any transparent bits she might have missed.

“I'm fine," he said with a shrug. "A little tired maybe, but I honestly don't really remember anything after being in the attic. I'm sorry you had to go through that alone,” he said, rubbing a work roughened thumb over her ring finger.

“I wasn't alone,” she said, smiling wryly. He grimaced at the reminder of their guest upstairs.

“You know what I mean,” he said, returning her smile without hesitation.

“I do,” she nodded.

Adam turned over her hand, now running his thumb over the cut from her sword. “Does it hurt?” he asked, a little fretfully.

She shook her head, hair bouncing. “No.” It had healed up gradually over the last couple of hours, and was now just a thin pink line across her palm. Even the mud and blood and whatever else from her adventure was fading gradually, leaving her looking exactly as she had before she'd died. She curled her fingers around his thumb tightly, stilling his movements and trapping the digit in her palm.

"I thought you were going to die. Without me, this time," she said quietly.

"I wouldn't ever leave you Barbara," her husband said softly.

And she believed him. She leaned across to slip her arms around his neck. She kissed him softly, and _finally_ she was home.

Exhausted in a way they hadn't been since they died, they retired to their bedroom, down the hall from Lydia's and the guest bedroom, across the hall from Charles and Delia. They fell gratefully into the bed that they didn't really need and tucked up together, they slipped slowly into what counted as sleep when you were dead.

She was awoken sometime later by a thump and a muffled curse from down the hall. She headed out of their room to investigate, already knowing where the noise would be coming from. There was another muffled curse from the guest bedroom, confirming her suspicions. She knocked lightly on the door. The scuffling inside stopped.

"It's me," she whispered, before letting herself in.

Beetlejuice was on the floor, trying to wrestle himself into the pair of sweatpants they'd left for him to change into.

"Hi," she said awkwardly.

"Hi," he said back.

Eventually, after they'd stared at each other in the gloom a little too long, she walked over to offer him a hand up. He still hesitated before taking it, but that was OK, she figured. Some things take time.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" She realised, as he finished pulling the pants on. He was already wearing the t-shirt they'd left out for him- on old one of Charles' that was far too big. The idea made her- sadder than she thought it would. It had only been two days, but she'd been starting to get used to having him around. She hadn't really thought that much about what was going to happen once he woke up, and had assumed he'd be out for the count a little longer.

"Places to be, Barbie doll." He said airily, shoving his feet into his boots, which looked very odd with the sweatpants. “Can't hang around you breathers and dead beats all day, can I?”

"Lydia is going to be so mad at you if you up and leave like this,” Barbara said, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms, ignoring his comment. “She's been begging her dad to let her summon you for weeks."

"She has?" Beetlejuice asked, cocking his head.

She nodded.

"Huh. Hey wait, you said she didn't miss me,” he said accusingly, pointing a finger at her.

Barbara shrugged. “I lied,” she admitted readily.

“Wow. Good for you," he said, shooting her a thumbs up. "Didn't know you had it in you." He finished jamming his foot into his remaining shoe, wiggling it into place. "Guess I just figured she'd be mad at me after- you know," he trailed off, awkwardly.

"You manipulated her and almost killed me?" She finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, OK, so it wasn't my finest hour, you don't gotta rub my nose in it," he grumbled, sinking back onto the bed and staring sullenly at the floor. Barbara pushed off from her position against the wall and came to sit beside him on the bed.

"Well, she'll definitely be mad if you leave without saying goodbye," Barbara said, lying back on the mattress, her hair haloing out around her. "I won't stop you if you want to go, but I want you to know that you're- welcome here."

He snorted. "You sure about that?"

"As far as I'm concerned? Yes. You are."

"You the head of the household now?" he asked, peering down at her from the corner of his eye.

She pumped a lazy fist in the air. "Barbara 2.0!"

He laughed, but the movement made him wince, and rub an absent hand over his chest. She could see the bandages peeking out beneath the shirt they'd given him, and couldn't help but worry.

"For real though,” she said seriously, sitting up to face him. “Thank you."

He fidgeted uncomfortably, and even in the darkened room she could see he was out of his depth. "Don't sweat it."

"You helped me save Adam; you nearly died. I'd say I have a lot of sweating to do.” She paused.“You know what I mean.”

She took his head in her hands, and despite all his earlier talk about lack of boundaries, he still stiffened under her touch. She leaned in slow, giving him time to pull away, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “_Thank you_," she said, stressing the words, still holding his face so he could see the sincerity in her eyes.

His hair grew so green it practically glowed in the dark.

"Your hair-"

"It's a thing" he said defensively, trying to flatten it down to no avail.

"You could stay,” she tried again. “Lydia would love that. And Charles would come around eventually, and honestly I think you and Delia would get on like a house on fire-"

“What about Adam?” he asked slyly. Barbara considered this. Adam didn't like Beetlejuice. But two days ago Barbara hadn't really liked him either.

“You changed my mind- you could change his too,” she said with a shrug. "But you're never going to know if you don't stick around to find out."

Beetlejuice chewed his lip between his slightly-too-sharp and slightly-too-many teeth. He stared off into the darkness of the bedroom, considering something she could only guess at.

"It's- I just- I don't think I'm ready," he said quietly, at last. An admission she doubted he would be giving to anyone else or under any different circumstances. "To be here, all the time, in one place. Feels like a cage, kinda and I already got me one of those."

"The curse?" She'd never asked about it, really. She didn't know how it worked, but it seemed to have a great sway over his life- or death, as the case may be. _Boundaries_, she thought. She was starting to wonder if maybe he didn't have more of those than he thought.

"The curse," he confirmed with a nod, before jumping suddenly to his feet in a way that made Barbara fear for the state of his chest. "Well, I gotta be hitting the road so to speak," he said briskly, shaking off his earlier moment of vulnerability. "BTdubs, you might wanna put some protection so nothing else comes snooping around here looking for a quick snack."

Barbara wasn't keen on the idea that there were other things that might be lurking about out there that could cause them trouble. "How do we do that? I don't know anything about that stuff," she said, standing to join him. "“I still don't even understand how we got home.”

"Oh, right, I forgot!" He leaned towards her and slipped a finger and thumb into the pocket of her dress. It startled her a little how easily she allowed it. He pulled out the little black stone that she and Adam had been guessing about from before and held it up to her.

“That?” she asked incredulously.

“Yup,” he said, tossing it in the air a few times. “I couldn't sense it before, what with your energy and Adam's energy and the scucca's energy- but once things had calmed down I could sense this bad boy right away.” He dropped it back in her palm, and Barbara gaped at the smooth stone disbelievingly.

“Are you telling me Delia was right all along about crystals?!”

“Oh no," he scoffed. "Most of that is total bullshit, but like I said before; natural objects are good spiritual conductors. Once you're dead stuff like this," he tapped the stone "it can pick up signals, transfer energy, all kindsa junk. And with all her hippy-dippy mineral bullcrap under a roof with two ghosts? I'd bet that's what brought the scucca running." He laughed to himself. "Probably thought this house was an all you can eat ghost buffet- bet it was disappointed their were only two of you after all.”

Barbara kept looking between Beetlejuice and the stone in her hand. "So- I got us home- with this?"

He nodded, shoving his hands into the sweatpants. “You'd been carrying this baby around with you all the time- and when you said you wanted to go home, it recognised where that was- energy transference, you know? Took you right back here to where the rest of your energy was- the house." He waved a hand at the ceiling to demonstrate.

Barbara blinked at him. "One day you're going to have to come back here and explain all this to me, because I really don't know how this whole being dead thing works," she said blankly.

He threw up his arms. "That's what I've been saying this whole time!" He exclaimed, exasperated, but there was no malice in his words. If Barbara didn't know better she'd think he almost sounded _fond_.

“Anyway, I gotta hit the road, Sandy'll be looking for me,” he said, turning to pick up his suit from where he'd left it in a heap on the floor.

“Lydia said it's been a week since we left, will she be OK after all that time?” Barbara asked, concerned despite herself.

“Ah, she can take care of herself, she's a big girl,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Kinda like you,” he added with a wink.

She shoved his arm playfully, careful to avoid his torso, and he laughed, before catching himself and coughing into his fist embarrassedly. He scrunched his old clothes up roughly under his arm and stood stiffly next to her, avoiding eye contact.

"Right. Well. Smell ya later, Babs," he said haltingly, heading for the door.

"Goodbye Lawrence."

She could see his hair glowing again as he left.

The next morning there was a badly wrapped parcel waiting on the kitchen table, along with a pile of papers. The note was addressed to her in writing that looked like a drunken spider had fallen in an inkwell and then staggered dizzily across the paper.

She squinted at the note, which as far as she could decipher said:

_Babs,_

_If you're staying in the land of the living that house of yours is gonna need some charms or some shit to make sure nothing else sneaks into it while you're all tucked up safe in your beddybys. You won't find shit like this in the guide book, let me tell you! Some of them are super complicated- I bet Adam'll have a field day with how tedious they are to set up._

_P.S. Got a little souvenir for you. _

_-LBS_

Setting the note aside, she picked up the sheaf of papers on the table. It couldn't qualify as a book- it had no cover, or spine, but it was bound together into a sort of leaflet, and as she flicked through she realised that the handwriting matched that of the note, and that Beetlejuice had written these himself. It contained a number of different sigils and notes on protective charms and devices (Beetlejuice had been right, Adam would love this).

Setting the papers carefully aside for now, tore the crinkled, stripey, paper off the package- and withdrew the sword. She held if aloft in the early morning light streaming through the windows. The sword was once again gleaming silver, like it had been when Beetlejuice gave it to her. She turned the blade this way and that, watching the sun glint off the blade.

“What is that?” Adam asked from the door.

Barbara set the sword on the table as she turned to him.

“A souvenir,” she said with a smile.

“Is that the same sword you used to-”

“Yep,” she nodded, patting the hilt fondly.

“Oh! We should mount it!” Adam said, excitedly, “I think I have some spare wood in the attic-”

And he was already rushing back upstairs to check his supplies, eager for a new project.

She followed him sedately, admiring the way the sword shone. The stained glass in the kitchen had given a particularly nice glow, perhaps they could mount it on the wall in there, if Charles and Delia didn't mind. It was nice to have it back- she'd gotten quite attached to it, after everything they'd been through together. Maybe she should give it a name- all the best swords had names, didn't they?

She was still contemplating what to call her sword when she reached the attic doorway, and looked up to see Adam leaning behind the back of the old couch and frowning.

"Barbara," Adam said, holding up the cause of his confusion. "What is this?"

Barbara turned as pink as the whip in his hand.

"_Beetlejuice!_"

Nothing happened after she said his name. There was no smoke, no flash of light, no snakes crawling from the woodwork, but wherever he was Barbara felt sure the demon was laughing at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. Barbara and Beetlejuice are so much fun to write, I feel like post musical Barbara and Beej becoming friends would be like like...a disaster in the best possible way. Barbara already goes kinda feral in the musical, I think Beetlejuice would bring that out even more. He'd suggest something crazy to try and she'd be all for it because "BARBARA 2.0!!" 
> 
> I left some ground uncovered here specifically so I can come back to it later- this fic was always intended to be 99% from Barbara's perspective, so we don't see anything outside of her experiences here. What I'd really like to do with this series is try and explore the different dynamics between the characters, especially if they didn't interact much in canon (I am dying to write some Charles and Beetlejuice interactions, but I'll probably be saving those for a little ways down the line.) 
> 
> Thank you again for reading! See you in the next installment!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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